


Lost in the Company of Angels

by butwhatifdragons



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Anal Sex, Angst, Assassins, Blow Jobs, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Fictional Religion & Theology, Forbidden Love, Found Family, Guilt, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Minor Description of War, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-War, Royalty, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-04-21 11:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 84,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwhatifdragons/pseuds/butwhatifdragons
Summary: “Chim says you might know something about Eddie of Diaz from up in Angelsbury?”Hen laughed, her eyes darting toward Chim then resting upon Buck with a devilish sort of amusement that twinkled in the dim light.“Gods is this going to be one oblivion of a sweep.”“Wanna let me in on why?”Hen shrugged. By the way that a smirk settled on her lips, it was obvious that Hen did not, in fact, want to let Buck in on the big secret.(In which Buck is a thief who is tasked with stealing from an old member of the guild; Chim is the youngest guild master in a century; Hen is totally unhelpful until she isn't; Bobby is the king; and Eddie is an assassin on the run.)
Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 167
Kudos: 152
Collections: Buddie AU fanfics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into 9-1-1 fandom. I hope you enjoy this AU as much as I do!!
> 
> Title from "Jericho" by Ruston Kelly.
> 
> This is heavily inspired by a myriad of things but perhaps most obviously (to me, at least) Skyrim. I purposefully am not tagging it as a Skyrim AU, because it technically is not. (That will become more obvious as the story progresses.) I also drew inspiration from my own love for history - most notably the middle ages - as well as other bits and pieces from other works that you are welcomed to guess for yourself. So if you are familiar with Skyrim, kudos because it is a great game. If you are not, don't worry. This isn't set in that empire/universe or in anyway related to/based on it. I just really wanted to write a historic-inspired piece set in a fictional fantasy universe. 
> 
> Mainly, I just wanted to write again. It has been entirely too long since I have wanted to write, let alone been this excited about a fic. This is my baby, practically, and I have a lot of it already written so that I can stay ahead of things, but I am entirely too eager to get this out to wait until I finish writing the whole thing. Plus, I'll admit it: I kinda need some motivation to keep going right now.
> 
> (Because there is a lot of universe-specific terminology, I will add a mini-dictionary of sorts at the end of the chapter to help explain what the narration doesn't [yet]. Feel free to scroll down there first; there are no [major] story spoilers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a rough pronunciation guide for the gods*. This will also be posted at the beginning of chapter 11 and will remain up there for a week or two so that everyone can see it. Feel free to differ in your opinion as to how they are pronounced; however, this is the official way(s) the characters here pronounce them:
> 
> _Gothawens_: Goth-ah-wins 
> 
> _Iycorr_: Ee-core (sometimes the 'r' is trilled depending on the character, namely Eddie would trill it)
> 
> _Eiwoas_: Eye-woahs
> 
> _Enone_: Ee-no-ney 
> 
> _Ityae_: It-yay
> 
> _Dezagi_: Day-za-gy 
> 
> _Pernua_: Per-new-a
> 
> _Zanlyos_: Zan-lee-os
> 
> _Xyzaruna_: X-za-rune-a; Za-rune-a; **X-za-rune-ee-ah**; Za-rune-ee-ah (Any is accepted; the official pronunciation used by the royal family is in bold. Those native to the south of the Empire typically lean toward the first option while those native to the north tend to lean toward the second option; few use the final option but it is historically accepted.)
> 
> _Adiara_: Eh-dee-are-ah; Add-ee-are-ah (The first option is more commonly used; however, those native to the South, particularly in the River Province, are more likely to use the second option.)
> 
> *There is a mini-dictionary at the end of the first few chapters, which explain who the gods actually are.

“It’s simple: you get in, sweep the statue, and get out. No problem—but if you’re caught, we don’t know you.”

So Buck had his orders, cryptic as they were. They were rather fitting, he thought, given the situation. If they were meant to be any clearer, they wouldn’t have been given in the sewers beneath the old royal citadel of the Station. He was being rather generous calling this place a citadel. Or royal. Really, it was a dump. Built over the edge of a great river, its former glory had been in the water trade routes. These days, there weren’t many boats coming through. The war took care of that. And the thieves took care of the rest.

Buck, well, he wasn’t much of a warrior—not in the hero sense, at least—but he was a hell of a thief.

“Talk to Hen if you need more information on the hit. I’ve, uh, told you everything I know, but Hen used to run in the same crowd as Eddie, so she might be able to give you a bit of insight of what to expect,” said Chim.

He was already turning back to his log books to check over the live jobs and add Buck’s latest one to the list. The guild master, Chim was the youngest to lead the thieves since its heyday a century or so ago. He was wicked smart, able to pick any lock in under ten seconds flat, and had a knack for blending into the shadows as if they were a part of him. Just another extension of his body. Who knew—in these parts, the shadows really may have been.

Buck took his dismissal and left Chim frowning over the ledger. He crossed the rotunda in easy, simple steps. The sound of them echoed off the vast chamber, bouncing off the stonework like the beat of the beat of the drum that Lena played in the thieves’ tavern next door on half moon nights. _Eiwoas_, Buck loved those nights the best.

Hen stood near the hidden entrance that led out underneath the citadel’s graveyard. She was as recognizable in the dim lighting of the underground headquarters as she would have been in full sunlight. Like Chim, Hen had a full head of coal colored hair, but, unlike Chim, she kept hers neatly shaved close around her head. She wore a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, and they complimented her brown complexion. The spectacles had been dipped in a specialty elixir that prevented them from glinting in the light. The effect wore off every few months, but that was no worry for Hen, the resident master alchemist.

Today, like always, she had chosen to forego her thieves’ hood, a leather, form-fitting hood that always seemed to _persuade_ the merchants to offer a better deal. Hen found the hood too constricting—and also unnecessary. She could charm the sugar right out of honey.

“Chim says you might know something about Eddie of Diaz from up in Angelsbury?”

Hen laughed, her eyes darting toward Chim then resting upon Buck with a devilish sort of amusement that twinkled in the dim light. It was unsettling in the brown hues of Hen’s eyes, like a lit match poised above a puddle of oil spread out across the floor of a seemingly abandoned mine. It made Buck’s heartbeat accelerate, and he was at a loss as to exactly what it was about the name Eddie that elicited such a response from Hen.

“Gods is this going to be one hell of a sweep.”

“Wanna let me in on why?”

Hen shrugged. By the way that a smirk settled on her lips, it was obvious that Hen did not, in fact, want to let Buck in on the big secret.

“Eddie and us go way back,” said Hen, nearly unhelpfully so. “It was long before you came stumbling along to our operation, of course. _Pernua_. It’s been years since I’ve seen hide or hair of him.”

“So you’ve got nothing for me?”

“I didn’t say that. Thieves are, as you might have noticed, not prone to changing their ways. They’ve always got this… tick in their hearts that just make them itch to swipe something, you know?”

“So he’s a thief, like us?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Buck groaned. He resisted the urge to bang his head against the wooden cabinet next to them, but only just. Hen could keep this up the whole evening if Buck didn’t stop her. She was getting a good laugh out of this, too. Buck sometimes swore Hen and Chim were two sides of the same coin, one soul split in two. Best friends, they had forged a bond through the thieves guild like no other had. It was nice they had each other—especially because, for a few long years, they hadn’t had anybody except one another—but it also meant they had the same sense of humor and enjoyed teasing Buck, their no-longer-newest recruit, whenever the opportunity arose.

“Would you tell me what you are saying, then?”

Instead of taking offense to the bite of Buck’s words, Hen just barked out another laugh. She placed a calloused hand on Buck’s shoulder, bearing down some weight. Sometimes, Buck forgot that Hen had grown up in the mines of the Backlands. She had fled them years ago, before she had reached the cusp of womanhood, but the strength in her hold was a testament to the harsh upbringing only the mountains could foster in a person.

Sometimes, Buck wondered where Hen would have been today if she had never left those mountains. It was a thought Buck didn’t like entertaining. He would have never met Hen, if she hadn’t sought refuge in the Station. Then where would the thieves’ guild be? Where would Chim and Buck be? Because Buck could count on one hand the number of good friends he had like this—and that number almost began with Chim and ended with Hen.

“With Eddie, it’s best to get in and get out during the daytime, sometime after midday, when the sun is at its highest and going down. He runs some work for the local guild there, or so I’ve heard, and he’s always done his best work at night. By midday, he should be up and gone—assuming word is right and he is traveling alone right now. But you should beware. Eddie has, uh, this knack for knowing when people are around, even if he isn’t.”

Buck nodded, mentally cataloguing the information and trying to parse out the useful bits. He wasn’t much of a planner—always liked to barge in before he talked himself out—but Chim didn’t like messy jobs. Buck understood that, of course. Messy jobs cost more coin, and in a coin-hungry guild such as the thieves, time itself was gold. 

“Got it. Thanks, Hen.”

“And wait–” 

Hen used her hold on Buck’s shoulder to keep Buck from walking off. She dug into the pocket of her trousers with her free hand and pulled out a shiny silver necklace. Hanging from it was a round pendant with the number 118 etched in the Old Tongue into the metal. Even from looking at it, it was obviously fine craftsman work.

“Take this,” said Hen, twisting the necklace over Buck’s head until it fell around his neck and hung comfortable around it. “If anything goes wrong, that should help out.”

Buck delicately held the pendent in his fingers. On the other side, opposite the number, was another etching, the outline of a flame. He looked up at Hen, a thousand questions on his tongue.

_What kind of trouble was Hen expecting? _

_What good would this pendant do him? _

But Hen was releasing him and ushering him toward the concealed exit right behind her. There was a note of urgency about her movements. Buck thought about digging his heels into the crumbling stone floor at his feet. He needed his answers, dammit, but Hen explained her haste.

“Now, get out of here. There’s a carriage leaving for the Calafia Province within the hour. Better make haste to the city gates.”

Buck tucked the necklace underneath his thieves’ guild issued armor. Made of leather, it was as form fitting as the hood was; however, it had dozens of hidden pockets to store whatever kind of loot Buck came across in his travels. It was Buck’s go-to choice for traveling gear.

There was no technical required uniform for the guild. It was a ridiculous notion. How was one meant to pilfer valuables whenever they wore the mark of the guild on their person? But leather was a common choice of clothing for the farmers that lived in the cool foothills of the mountains, where trade resources were hard to come by and leather sources were abundant. In recent years, the fashion of the foothills had slowly spread to other parts of the empire, to the point that nobody looked twice at a man walking down village streets in full leather armor.

Buck heeded Hen’s urgency and headed for the ladder exit into the graveyard. He paused at the foot of it to glance over his shoulder. Hen had left her post to join Chim at the jobs ledger. They were speaking softly to one another, likely about Buck’s job, given the somberness of Chim’s expression. A spark of curiosity erupted in Buck’s chest. There was something Chim and Hen were keeping from him, and he wanted to demand they tell him.

But he climbed the ladder instead. He had a job to do. Secrets or no, neither Chim nor Hen would send him into a job without telling him what he absolutely needed to know.

The carriage ride from the Station to the Calafia Province was an entire day and a half passage. Buck spent the entirety of it curled up in a ball in the back of the carriage wagon, pressed up against a wooden box full of alchemistic ingredients. Buck knew his way around valuables, which included ingredients such as these, and he knew that the box itself was barely worth the transportation on the wagon. He wondered what sad sap was paying for nothing.

By the time that the carriage arrived in the citadel of Angelsbury, Buck’s limbs were stiff, and his butt was sore, and, really, the guild could spring for a more comfortable carriage. Like maybe one with feather-padded seats instead of the bare, wooden floor that had been the bane of Buck’s existence since the thieves’ citadel had faded over the horizon.

He jumped off the back of the carriage and immediately stretched his stiff, sore limbs. He glanced up at the sky. It was well past midday now, moving into the evening. If he hurried, he could get the job done and be on the next carriage back to the Station by late this evening.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He looked up at the citadel in front of him. Still hidden by massive stone walls, only the tops of the houses and buildings were visible, yet those alone were enough of an indication that he wasn’t in the River District anymore. There, all of the buildings were built low to the ground and spread out so that their weight wasn’t too great on any part of the marshy river bank soil. The buildings there were reminiscent of the shipping boats that ran the canals. Everything smelled of fish and gold—the latter, though, may have been a mere superstitious scent the locals attributed to the well-known presence of the thieves beneath the royal citadel.

Here, Angelsbury sat in the heart of the plains. In the distance, in nearly all directions, were great hills and mountains. Between here and there were leagues and leagues of fertile farmland so rich that they would put the pitiful pastures in the northern River Province to shame.

Buck followed the crowd of travelers through the gate into the citadel, doing his best to try to blend in with the others and not stand out like the thief he was. People didn’t think too kindly of Buck’s kind, not that Buck particularly cared.

If people didn’t want their valuables stolen, they shouldn’t just… leave them around for Buck’s nimble fingers to pluck.

It wasn’t really that Buck was an indiscriminative thief. He had his code—which was partly the thieves guild’s code and partly an oath to his father. He only stole goods. He didn’t steal lives or limbs. He always stole from the rich or those who could afford to fund Buck’s way of life and never from those who were as dirt poor as he had grown up being. He didn’t mess with royalty or diplomatic affairs.

Though not necessarily the code, he made sure he never got caught, too—but that was really more of a personal preference to avoid bounties or outright jail time. Buck wouldn’t do good in jail.

The farther Buck walked into the citadel, the more of it that unrolled before him. The houses were beautiful and ornate, each at least twice as tall as one would ever dare to be in the River District. They were built out of sturdy, light woods, those that could stand up to the test of time and the weathered air that Calafia Providence was known for. The paths were paved with old, worn down stones. That more than the houses and the identical buildings and the ornate designs between them spoke of the prosperity that sank deep into the soil of this citadel. It was not only the heart of the plains. It was also the heart of the empire.

Prosperous, the trade routes that passed through here was akin to the waters that passed beneath the thieves’ citadel. There were people everywhere. Mainly, they were traders and merchants, but there were also a fair share of well-to-do locals selling their produce in the market in the lower citadel’s center.

Buck stood in the middle of the market and glanced all around him, amazed. This was the type of place that he had dreamed of living back when he was a child and starving on half-frozen tundra with the rest of his poor family. Maybe if Buck had grown up here amongst the riches of Angelsbury, he wouldn’t have ended up nearly starving to death on the outer banks of the Great River.

Maybe if he would have grown up here, he wouldn’t have found himself running with the thieves, throwing every kindness his father ever unconditionally extended to him right back in his face. But then he wouldn’t have his father, and no matter how much Buck had fucked up his life, he wouldn’t trade a single ounce of suffering for all of the riches in the world—not if it meant he could have his father.

A stranger bumped into him and promptly apologized in a thick, northern accent that wrapped too closely around the letter ‘r’ until it was more of a word all by itself. Buck smiled off his apology then moseyed away from the marketplace. The sun was sinking in the cloud-heavy sky, which meant he couldn’t afford to waste any more time gawking at the night-and-day differences between his home citadel and Angelsbury.

He headed down a twisted path that lead eastwardly away from the marketplace. He passed a blacksmith’s then a general goods store and finally an apothecary. When he rounded the next corner, around the local inn, his target came into sight. It was almost too nondescript to be Buck’s final destination, but Buck knew that, sometimes, outward appearances were deceptive. The richest subject in the River District, after all, called the sewers his home.

The targeted house looked like all of the ones around it—tall and ornate and made of light, sturdy wood. There was a small garden off the southern side of it, and it was full of the produce this land was known for: tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. Amongst them were mushrooms and herbs and mints, all used to mix up various elixirs. Hen would love to get her hands on the garden.

Buck followed the edge of the garden around to the front door. The street was mostly deserted, but he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. He knocked his elbow against the door them wiggled the knob in the old trick that Chim had taught him to check there was a lock engaged. He heard the tell-tale _thump_ that said he would have to put his lock picking skills to use.

Glancing up and down the street, nobody was even looking in his direction. He did a precursory once-over of the door to see if there were any traps that might need to be deactivated beforehand. He saw none—which wasn’t all that unusual, given the type of houses that Buck made his career out of breaking into—but it never hurt to check, especially when the target was an old associate of the guild.

Buck took a deep breath then crouched in front of the door. He looked up and down the street one last time, but he was hidden from sight beneath the large butterfly bushes that lined both sides of the entryway. He fished his lock pick out of his trouser pocket, favoring his prized hook pick above the others, then set to work, his heart pounding fast with the adrenaline dancing through his veins.

For the home of an old associate of Chim and Hen’s, it was surprisingly quick work of the lock. Buck ducked inside before he drew any unwanted attention. The door snapped shut behind him, nearly soundless. He stood motionless, barely breathing, just inside of the entryway, trying to gauge whether or not he was alone. The silence of the house suggested he was, but he had happened on more than his fair share of residential sleepers, especially in the early days of his career.

Buck took a few experimental steps. His footfalls were silent, thanks to the thieves’ guild commissioned boots. Once he made it to the center of the room, he was rather certain he was alone, so he stood up and finally decided to get down to business. He double backed to trap the door. He set a noise wire that would alert him if someone were to enter the house without his knowing. He had suffered one too many hairpin escapes in his early career not to cover himself now.

Then he walked back to the middle of the room and stood there in the living quarters, noting that it really didn’t match the outside décor. There was nothing ornate about it. A table for two, empty except a bowl with two red apples. A cooking pot standing over an unlit fire in the fireplace. A cabinet pushed up underneath the single window, the top of it bare. A straw bed with a linen sheet, barely big enough for a single person. That was it.

Most importantly—and Buck searched twice—the promised valuables were nowhere in sight.

Buck sighed. He liked it better when people left their valuables displayed for the world to see and him to take, but he wasn’t going to let a little complication deter him. He crossed the rest of the room until he found a set of staircases. One led upstairs to nothing except cobwebs and a set of empty storage barrels.

The other led downstairs to the basement. It was musty down here, remind Buck of the sewers. He was in his element. The lighting down here was dark, like the rotunda back home, but his eyes adjusted with practiced ease. The basement was more furnished than either of the higher levels. A few wooden chests lined the walls. An armor stand stood in the back corner, hidden in the shadows so that Buck could not discern the armor it held.

As luck would have it—thank _Enone_—on the shelf in between a set of wooden chests was Buck’s prize: a golden statue of _Zanlyos_, the god of dreams and sleep and the quietest of all of the pantheon of gods. It was in pristine condition. Adorned with flawless emeralds, the stone of dreams, it would fetch a beautiful price with the right thiefspawn, and Buck knew the exact thiefspawn who would buy this little beauty for the best price.

It was just small enough to fit into the fake pouch in the pack around Buck’s waist, so Buck slipped it inside. There were a couple of pieces of expensive silver jewelry laying on the shelf beneath where the statue had been sitting, so he swiped that up as well. It wasn’t necessarily part of his job, but the guild never turned down valuables to sell for some coin.

Buck stepped back, satisfied with a job well done, and felt the sharp point of a steel sword pressed against the middle of his back.

“Give me one good reason not to run you through, _thief_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The promised mini-dictionary:**
> 
> The River Province – one of ten provinces in the Empire; a southern province; most notable for the Great River that runs straight through it
> 
> The Station/River District (interchangeable terms) – the provincial seat of the River Province; located where the mouth of the Great River lets out; the river trade routes made it one of the most prosperous citadels until the Great War devastated the entire empire’s economy, including the water-based trading routes; home of the thieves guild 
> 
> The Great War - a recent war; Empire victory; began when the Rotlansers invaded the Pass in the northeastern part of the Empire; a long and bloody war that gave rise to a Champion of Iycorr, who ultimately turned the tide of the war in the Empire’s favor
> 
> Rotlansers – natives of the Rotlans; an Empiric term
> 
> Rotlans – the kingdom that lays to the north of the Empire; long-time enemies of the Empire
> 
> _Iycorr_ – god of war and revenge; one of the ten gods of the pantheon of the Empire
> 
> _Eiwoas_ – god of night, love, trickery, and magic; master of shadows; patron god of thieves
> 
> Angelsbury – the provincial seat of Calafia Province, the heart of the empire
> 
> Calafia Province – the central province of the empire; known for its rich farmlands and prosperous overland trade routes
> 
> _Pernua_ – god of workmanship, blacksmiths, and laborers; patron god of the Backlands
> 
> The Backlands – north-central province; known for its rich mines; the home province of Hen
> 
> _Enone_ \- goddess of the day, the arts, and healing; Bestower of Luck
> 
> _Zanlyos_ \- god of dreams and of sleep 
> 
> Thiefspawn – another term for fence; a purveyor of stolen goods


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, at the end of the chapter, there is a mini-dictionary covering new terms this chapter introduces, though these are better explained in the narration than those of the last chapter were. Feel free to skip down to the end first (or don't - seriously, I almost didn't add the mini-dictionary to this chapter because the story explains enough for now).
> 
> <del>One of these days, I might consolidate this mini-dictionary with the previous one and have one big, continuous dictionary.</del>

Buck’s heart leaped to his throat and stayed there. His mouth went dry. Quickly, in the breadth of a second, he weighed the options before him, ever so aware of the sharp tip of the sword pressing into his back.

If he went for the dagger at his hip, the stranger would run him through with the sword before he even managed to unsheathe it. If he were to use Hen’s special concoction, he could possibly drop it before the swordsman had a chance to react—but that required him playing it safe until there was an opportunity to escape. And it would come. It always did. Buck had found himself at the wrong end of a blade more times than he cared to discuss, and he always lived to walk away from it.

So Buck threw up his hands in innocence and slowly, ever so slowly, turned around to face the stranger with a sword.

“I see we got off on the wrong foot,” he said, as he turned.

He wished more than anything that he possessed the silver tongue that Hen had. Even with the thieves’ enchanted leather hood, his persuasive skills could use some polishing. He didn’t usually have to resort to talking his way out of jams. Perhaps that was something he should work on once he made it back to the River District.

The stranger barked out a laugh. It echoed in the musty basement, circling around in the air until it ate itself up.

“You’re robbing me blind. I’d say we’re off on the wrong foot.”

The stranger, once Buck turned around to get a good look at him, had a wicked smile. It was all teeth and twisted up at the corners, like his sense of humor was as deadly as the blade he now held pressed into the leather armor just above Buck’s heart. The stranger’s hair was the color of the pebbles on the eastern beaches, pure and black. His eyes were the deep shade of dark mountain mud, the kind that could swallow up a whole village in a heartbeat and not think twice about it.

His attire was as out of place in Angelsbury as Buck’s own well-worn, soft brown leather gear was, marking him as a traveler. He wore stiff, rigid mail underneath a thick doublet that made him look as if he had walked straight out of a Northern mine. Buck hadn’t spent a whole lot of time traversing through the North, but Hen hailed from there, and she often dressed like the miners, even in the River district. It was hard to miss, but not nearly as hard as the strange, bright swirl of red and orange stitched into the right shoulder of the doublet, nearly concealed from Buck’s vantage point.

“Now, why don’t you put back my golden statue, and I’ll think about letting you walk out of here alive.”

Buck dropped his hands to his side. He laughed, like the stranger had told a good joke, but really he was eager for the distraction, for the stranger to focus on his face rather than his hand reaching into his pouch to pull out Hen’s special paralyzing potion that he had made a habit to keep on his person for this very situation.

The distraction seemed to work. The stranger narrowed his eyes, obviously offended, and dug his sword farther into Buck’s armor, right above Buck’s heart. If it were any lesser quality, Buck might have felt the full point of the sword breaking skin, but, as it was, the tip merely pressed a little more into the leather.

Buck wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vial. He just needed a few more precious seconds...

“Don’t even think about it,” snapped the stranger, his eyes darting down to the vial in Buck’s hand. “Drop it, or I’ll gut you.”

Buck swallowed the spit that gathered in his mouth. His heart beat like the thundering hooves of spooked wild horses across a wide open plain. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, dancing anticipation across his skin.

_Eiwoas_, did he live for moments like this, a hair’s width away from death.

“Sure that’s what you want me to do?” he asked, hardly able to keep from smirking.

It was nice having a secret, an advantage over the swordsman. Buck’s armor was impervious to the potion, but the swordsman would not have the same advantage. Buck would gladly drop the potion and get the hell out of Angelsbury—and if it was at the stranger’s command, well, that was going to be one damn good story to tell Hen and Chim later.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” said the stranger. “Maybe I’ll just kill you instead.”

“I liked the other proposition better,” said Buck.

He held the vial of poison out between them, letting it dangle from his fingertips as if it could fall at the slightest movement. The stranger’s eyes darted to it then to Buck’s face. Buck saw the stranger’s decision a split second before the stranger lowered his sword and body slammed Buck against the cold basement wall, his free hand wrapping around Buck’s and the vial.

It was comparatively calloused, the stranger’s hand compared to Buck’s own. Uncovered, it was tanned by the sun. Buck felt a stirring of untimely arousal in his gut, and, _Eiwoas_, it had been a very, very long time since a stranger—since anyone, really—had this effect on this to him. It was rather unfortunate that this particular stranger was somebody who had interrupted Buck’s job rather than a pretty face down in Pub 118 in the River District. 

“What’s this?” demanded the stranger, maneuvering his hand and sword around so that he could grab at the silver pendent that hung from Buck’s neck. He tugged at it, and the knot that held the leather cord together gave. He studied the pendant for a moment, his eye flitting up to Buck’s face then back down, and finally huffed. He shook his head then took a step back, a dry imitation of a smile on his lips. “Figures. Those bastards.”

The stranger had let go of Buck so quickly that, for a long moment, Buck stood stunned, still pressed up against the basement wall like the stranger had left him. He watched the stranger with apprehension, his own heart thumping loudly in his ears and his eyes as wide as he could hold them open. The stranger paced back and forth, running hand through his hair and muttering strings of profanity underneath his breath that would put Chim to shame.

Finally, the stranger stopped. It was so sudden that Buck’s eyes kept on moving in the direction the stranger had been pacing until he caught himself. The stranger stared wide-eyed back at him.

“So, what? You’re the new blood?”

“What?”

“They sent you out here for shits and giggles, is that it?”

“Huh?”

“Because, of course, it isn’t a fucking coincidence that I—that their _thief_ is in my house. Tell me. Was this some sort of initiation? Some sort of joke?”

The stranger would have continued, probably, forever, if Buck didn’t put a stop to his ramblings.

“I’m not wet behind the ears, I’ll have you know! I’m the best thief in the guild.”

The stranger looked him up and down, calculating with a sneer on his lips. Something distant burned in his eyes. Buck couldn’t place it.

“You’re not Chim, that’s for sure. _He_ wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

Buck stepped away from the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He held the vial of poison tight in his fist. The stranger had lowered his sword, but Buck wasn’t convinced that he would not need the vial after all.

“There was nobody here. I checked. How did you even get in, anyway?”

The stranger raised his eyebrows, surprise written mockingly across his face.

“You mean Chim didn’t warn you about me?”

Everything fell into place then. Buck blinked. Hen’s words came back to him, like a ghost haunting him in the middle of the night: _Eddie has, uh, this knack for knowing when people are around, even if he isn’t._

“You’re Eddie of Diaz.”

The stranger—Eddie—grinned.

“So you are smarter than you look.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Guess Chim left out that part?”

“Hen, actually.”

Eddie hummed in his throat. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it, as he considered Buck’s words. Buck found himself oddly entranced by the way Eddie’s lip glistened underneath the dim lighting of the basement.

“Interesting. She was the one who liked to tell me I won’t ever change.”

Buck said nothing. Partly, he didn’t know what to say. The real reason—and he would deny this if _Eiwoas_ himself were to appear in his godly form and demand him to tell the truth—was that he was still distracted by Eddie’s lips.

Neither Hen nor Chim had mentioned how… attractive Eddie of Diaz was.

“So, tell me, what does a Statue of _Zanlyos_ fetch for these days? From a good thiefspawn, I mean? Gotta be more than a couple hundred coin, or I can’t imagine Chim would have sent you my direction.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but there was surprisingly little information about this job,” said Buck. “I couldn’t even get a straight answer out of Hen as to why this was gonna be one hell of a sweep—and that’s almost verbatim, by the way. Straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

Eddie laughed again, like Buck had told a good joke that Buck himself wasn’t privy to. He shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter how long I’m gone,” he said, mostly to himself. He looked back down at the pendant that rested atop the collar of Buck’s armor, and he stared at it for a long time as if it held all of the answers in the world. “Tell Chim that the sweep was nothing. Easy-peasy, if you will. Hell, tell him I wasn’t here. That there wasn’t even a sign that I’d been here in ages. Whatever. Just don’t—”

He stopped. His eyes flashed to Buck’s and stayed there. It was suddenly terrifyingly intimate, staring into Eddie’s eyes in the flickering, dim candle light of the musty basement with barely a couple of feet between them. Buck felt a rush of heat dance up through his cheeks.

“I’ll let you walk out of here, unscathed with that statue and my dead mother’s precious jewels, and you don’t breathe a word of my being here, deal?”

Buck narrowed his eyes, even as the pouch with the stolen goods seemed like it now weighed an imperial ton. Buck didn’t like to think about mothers, about those who died before their time, about those who had no choice but to let their children starve. He didn’t, because thinking about mothers made him think of that gods-forsaken tundra of his childhood and of the way that frozen, spoiled meat tasted two weeks past the last successful hunt.

“And what d’you get in return for my silence?”

The corners of Eddie’s lips quirked up, like he could go for a smile if this were any other situation, but it wasn’t. Buck was still very much trespassing upon Eddie’s property and stealing Eddie’s trinkets, and Eddie was still very much in possession of a sharp, deadly sword.

“For starters?” he asked, stepping forward with fire in his eyes and the quirk of his lips drawing even farther upward. “This.”

Then—

Eddie’s lips crashed against Buck’s, and it was like lightening danced between their mouths. Eddie pressed Buck backward until Buck slammed against the wall once more, but, this time, it was a welcomed sort of contact, the kind that anchored him to the world, to this moment and the reality of it. Eddie’s tongue tangled with Buck’s, and he kissed Buck like it was the last act he was meant to do as a living man. And Buck kissed equally as ferociously back.

The sword clattered to the ground. Buck’s vial slipped from his hand, but its descent was cut short by Eddie’s quick reflexes. He snatched it from midair and set it messily atop a shelf next to Buck’s right shoulder. He laid the pendant next to it.

Then Eddie’s hands went for Buck’s laces, the ones that held his armor together at the sides of his rib cage, and Buck let him, eager to rid Eddie of his clothing as well. This was going somewhere—straight to Oblivion, by the way they were feeding off each other—and Buck thought of that straw bed upstairs. It seemed like an unworldly task to climb each step, but, wrapped around one another and stumbling and leaving a path of clothing along the way, they made it.

Buck fell back onto the bed, and Eddie fell atop him, kissing down Buck’s bare neck all the way down the length of his torso until he reached Buck’s bare cock, and he took it in his mouth, and Buck swore out loud—prayed to _Eiwoas_ that this would never, ever end.

Eddie was good with his mouth. Sinfully so. He licked down the length of Buck’s cock then back up before taking the tip of it in his mouth and running his tongue around the head. And when Eddie took more and more of Buck into his mouth, Buck grabbed fistfuls of Eddie’s hair and prayed even harder.

Then Eddie pulled off, a string of his saliva mixed with Buck’s precome spread out between the tip of Buck’s cock and Eddie’s bottom lip, and it was the most delicious sight Buck had seen in a long, long time. Maybe ever. Buck grabbed Eddie by the chin and pulled him up as he himself leaned down, and he captured Eddie’s mouth in a world-ending kiss, tasting himself in it.

“How much you want?” asked Eddie, his breath hot and heavy against Buck’s lips and barely a hair away from them. He ducked in for another breath-stealing kiss before he let Buck properly respond. “Everything?”

Buck nodded, aroused beyond coherency. Eddie kissed down Buck’s chest again, pausing to suck at one nipple then the other, as he reached underneath the floor for something. He came up successful with a tiny vial full of clear liquid that would give Buck the everything he so desperately needed.

Eddie popped open the cork and drizzled some of the oil onto his fingertips then, without wasting anytime, ducked back down to take Buck’s cock in his mouth as his fingers began to prod at Buck’s hole. Buck reached down and held up his legs so that Eddie could have better access. He stared down at Eddie as he worked and thought he could travel the span of the empire three times over and never, ever find such a sight as beautiful as this one.

When Buck was loose enough, Eddie let off Buck’s cock to line his own up and press it into Buck, and Buck swore that time ceased to exist right then. It was only him and Eddie and the way that Eddie’s cock pressed in until it couldn’t anymore then withdrew to almost nothing.

Over and over and over again.

Buck drew Eddie back down for a kiss. He reached for his own cock, desperate for relief even as he prayed that this would last forever. Eddie wrapped his oil-slicked hand around Buck’s and, together, they dragged their hands up and down Buck’s cock in rhythm with Eddie’s pace until the world exploded into white. Oblivion.

Eddie followed barely a beat later, emptying into Buck and moaning Buck’s name like he were a god among men.

Buck woke up sometime later. The sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the world in pretty shades of pink and purple as the drizzle of an oncoming rainstorm pattered down outside. He felt sated, whole, in a way that he hadn’t in a long, long time. Maybe since the first time he pulled off a successful job on his own and was heralded as an official member of the thieves guild. Maybe since longer than that.

Eddie was asleep beside him on this awfully tiny bed. He laid on his front, and Buck lay beside him, half on top of him. He snored softly, and, in his slumber, he looked years younger than he had wide-eyed in the basement with a sword pressed right above Buck’s heart. Buck took a long moment to look Eddie over, to memorize him. He had ink stained into script that wrapped around his left forearm, right below his elbow. Buck wished he had time to read it and to commit ever inch of Eddie to memory, but he didn’t.

He needed to leave.

The last carriage was due to leave at sundown, and that was now. He couldn’t afford to stay in Angelsbury any longer. He had come for what he had meant to get, and he had to be back in the River District come day after tomorrow to join Hen for a job for their most lucrative client.

Never before had he been so tempted to miss a job.

But, even as tempted as he was to lay in bed and wait for Eddie to wake up and maybe have a round two of the best sex he had ever had in his life, Buck knew he couldn’t. He was a thief. And Eddie? Well, he used to be a thief, and he wasn’t anymore, and maybe Chim hadn’t just sent Buck to Angelsbury to steal a statue from an old friend.

So Buck got up, slowly as to not disturb his partner. Eddie didn’t even move. Buck allowed himself another few precious seconds to drink in the sight of Eddie naked except for the linen sheet pooled just above his ass. Then Buck went about retracing their steps from earlier, stepping into each piece of clothing as he came to it.

He latched his pouch last, checking to see that the statue was still there. It was, as were the necklaces Buck had stolen away. He paused then drew them out and placed Hen’s pendant in his pouch instead. He headed back upstairs, his footsteps silent as he returned to Eddie. He laid the necklaces down on the bedside table, gave Eddie one last, forlorn look, and quietly slipped away, undoing the trap at the front door as he left.

Outside, the rain had picked up. The sun was completely hidden behind the clouds as it continued its descent in the sky, slowly crashing beneath the horizon. Buck hurried through the citadel, slipping and sliding across the slick rocky path. Rain ran down his face like tears, and it wasn’t until he was safely on the last carriage out of the citadel that he realized it might not have even been the rain at all.

It might have been tears—and it was stupid. Eddie of Diaz was nothing more than a target, nothing more than an old associate of Chim and Hen’s, nothing more than the other participant in the greatest sexual experience in Buck’s entire life. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t want him back in his arms right now. He shouldn’t.

But he did.

By the time the carriage arrived in the River District, it was almost dusk of the next evening. Buck spent the majority of the ride trying to ignore the sticky feeling of his wet leather armor. He tried not to think about the way that the carriage ride was more uncomfortable than it had been on the way over to Angelsbury, that every bump reminded him of Eddie, and that every league was one more removed from Eddie.

It was ridiculous, being hung up on Eddie when he was nothing more than what he was: a stranger with a wicked smile and strings to Buck’s guild.

As Buck walked across the main bridge path of the River District, heading for the courtyard just before the docks, he forced Eddie of Diaz out of his mind. He had to, or he would do something totally insane like hop on the next carriage back to Angelsbury and ask Eddie to run away from him, far away from the guild and everything that Buck had ever known. Buck couldn’t do that. The guild was his family. It was all he had left.

Without it—well, Buck was nothing more than a beggar looking to turn a quick coin, the recognized son of his father or no.

In the courtyard behind the old part of the castle was a garden of statues built in the likeness of the royals of old. Locals believed the royal family employed a handful of caretakers to keep the garden pristine. It didn’t. The thieves guild cared for it, and for one very important reason: to conceal the most convenient access to the sewers where the thieves had set up shop.

Buck followed a well-practiced path to a crumbling white marble pavilion at the back of the garden. It was hardly big enough for Buck to stand up inside, and if he were to reach out his hands, the tips of his fingers would graze every wall. Legends say the Kings of Old prayed in solitude to the gods here. Even Buck’s father liked to tell that story.

But nobody prayed to the gods here anymore, not unless the commonly muttered praises to _Eiwoas _counted whenever thieves returned from successful jobs.

Double checking to make sure nobody had followed him—an old habit—Buck stepped inside of the pavilion and pulled the handle on the backside of the door without even looking at it. So practiced at it was he that he got it in the first attempt. The floor split open to reveal a ladder. Buck climbed down into the sewers and, after making sure the ceiling closed above him, entered the rotunda.

It was late at night, so most of the guild were already in their beds. Tiny, pitiful things, they were no better than the straw bed back in Angelsbury that Buck had shared with Eddie. For as much as this was the thieves’ home, they didn’t spend a whole lot of time down here. They were almost always on runs, and the majority of the thieves only stayed here in between assignments. The most prolific of the thieves had their homes scattered across the empire, which doubled as bases for remote operations.

Buck himself had been in a place to purchase his own home or land for the last few months, since the Giving Day when Chim had handed out end-of-the-year bonuses six whole days before the actual end of the calendar year, but there was something about sleeping—living—in the wide open rotunda that settled Buck’s nerves. It was sort of like coming home. He had his own bed right next to the entrance to the underground pub, so it wasn’t much of a drunken stumble straight to sleep on the nights he, Hen, and Chim shut down the place.

And Buck was pretty sure his father would stop being able to turn a blind eye if Buck were to go buy a house with thieving gold.

Hen was asleep in her own bed for once. She, like some of the River District natives, owned her own river house up above in the city. She shared it with her wife, Karen, and their young son, Denny. But ever since Denny had become theirs, Hen had stopped mixing her life with the guild with her personal life. When she had early jobs like the one she and Buck were due to depart for in the morning, she took up residence in her old bed in the sewers.

Chim, on the other hand, was still wide awake, sitting at his desk across the rotunda with his feet propped up on the desk and a book in his hands. Buck figured it was for work. It was probably a skills’ journal or maybe a down-and-dirty guide to wherever a new job was going to take place. Chim didn’t like being caught blind. He didn’t like sending his thieves in blind, either.

Except, apparently, this time when he had sent Buck headfirst into the lion’s den that had been Eddie of Diaz’s house with nothing more than a claim he knew nothing beyond the details of the job and that Hen could tell him more. By the way that Chim’s name had fallen so familiarly from Eddie’s tongue, Chim had known much more than he had let on.

Buck crossed the rotunda to stop just before Chim’s desk. He fished the Statue of _Zanlyos_ out of his pouch and set it down on the tabletop with a loud _thomp_ that echoed in the chamber amongst the snores of the thieves.

Chim looked up from his book, his eyebrows raised and his gaze flitting over the statue like it wasn’t even there.

“Back so soon.”

“Time is money, isn’t that what you’re always griping about?”

Chim huffed, the right corner of his lips tugging into a half-smile. He nodded his head, placed a marker in his book, and reached for the bag of gold already setting in the middle of the desk. He pushed it across to Buck.

“Here’s payment. Two-fifty, just like always, except I threw in an extra hundred for the trouble.”

Buck snatched up the coin purse but didn’t count it. Chim had never cheated him. He had never cheated anyone out of their fair share. They may have been thieves, but they had their morals. More importantly—and Chim knew this like it was the blood pumping through his own veins keeping him alive—the best way to keep thieves in the guild was to pay them what they were due.

“Funny you should say I had trouble,” said Buck.

For a split second the truth was on the tip of his tongue—how Eddie was there, how Eddie had almost ran him through with his sharp sword but didn’t because of the pendant Hen had wrapped around his neck, how he had promised Eddie that he wouldn’t say a word about any of that.

And then.

Buck hesitated. He had promised Eddie, not in so many words, of course, but he remembered the strange note of fear in Eddie’s voice when Eddie had offered up his dead mother’s jewels as payment for Buck’s silence. Something heavy settled in the pit of Buck’s stomach. He changed course almost as quickly as he had began speaking.

“Place was empty. Looked like there hadn’t been anyone there for ages. Just a bunch of dusty junk sitting around.”

Chim folded his hands atop his book and stared Buck down.

“Yet you came back with only the statue.”

“Nothing else was worth taking.”

Chim hummed in the back of his throat, believing Buck’s lie just like that, because he had no reason to believe otherwise. Buck had never lied about a job before and certainly never about the target.

“Get some sleep, then. I’d wager that Hen will be raring to go bright and early tomorrow morning. Wants to get the Pass over with as quickly as possible, I think—for obvious reasons.”

Hen had hailed from the Pass originally, though she would claim up and down the mountains of the Backlands were her home. But when the Rotlansers invaded the Pass, Hen had run off and joined the war. It was the Pass for whom she had fought the Great War, and it was the Pass who named her their hero. Hen didn’t like the title of hero—for reasons that Buck didn’t entirely understand but was certain had to do with what Hen had done to become a hero in the first place.

Apparently, life as _Iycorr’s_ Champion was nothing like the legends said.

Buck took his dismissal as it was given, turning around and heading straight for the bed that was waiting on him on the other side of the rotunda, but Chim stopped him with his next words.

“You didn’t happen to run across any, uh, Undergrounders, did you?”

Buck glanced over his shoulder. Chim wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was, instead, resting upon the Statue of _Zanlyos_ that Buck had nearly bled for. Buck swallowed the gathered spit in his mouth. His heart beat sluggishly in his chest. Undergrounders weren’t the kind to be messed with.

“No,” he said. “It was a clean job. I hardly even got to see the citadel.”

Chim looked up at him then. His eyes were so dark that the brown in them looked black like pools of ink spilled out across a blank roll of paper. The intensity of them was unsettling. Buck half-turned back so that he could see Chim’s face better. Underneath the shadowed lighting of the rotunda at this time of night, there wasn’t much more to see, just worry lines blossoming across Chim’s young face.

“You’re sure? Word is the Undergrounders are making a run at Angelsbury.”

“Well, they haven’t made a good enough one yet if that’s what you wanna know. The citadel was still in one piece. Fear was absent in the streets.”

Chim nodded, but the worry lines around his eyes did not smooth out.

“All right. I’ll check with my contacts, but, chances are, they are going to move soon, and we’re gonna need to be there to stop ‘em. Angelsbury is our city, has been the thieves’ ground for generations. Damn those Undergrounders.”

Buck tried not let the surge of excitement that flowed through his veins show on his face. Another trip to Angelsbury would put him within arm’s reach of Eddie again, and he was certain there would be a round two of glorious sex, if that were the case.

It was a selfish thought.

Undergrounders were bad news for both the thieves and the people who called Angelsbury their home. Undergrounders were ruthless. They killed without discrimination, without a code. They never, ever showed mercy. Some even whispered, almost too low for anybody to overhear, that the Undergrounders themselves had turned their backs on _Xyzaruna_, the goddess of mercy and death, in an effort to live forever. The thought of the truth of those rumors send deadly chills straight down Buck’s spine.

Buck wasn’t particularly faithful. He honored the gods, because his father expected him to, but there was always a little voice in the back of Buck’s head asking where in oblivion had the gods been when his mother left for a hunt one day to feed her starving children and never returned. But even he shuddered to think of crossing the goddess of death.

Chim dismissed Buck with a wave of his hand, settling back into his chair with his book, though when he opened it back up, he did not even pretend to read it. He only stared at it like, maybe, if he looked hard enough, he could gaze straight through it to the dark alleyways of Angelsbury and ascertain whether the Undergrounders were really already there or not.

Buck left him to it. He turned back around and headed for his bed, taking the borrowed pendant out of his pouch and quietly placing it on Hen’s bedside table for her to retrieve in the morning. He had no use for it now that he was done with Angelsbury.

He was bone dead tired, exhausted after his long journey, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and drift off to sleep with _Zanlyos_ himself might take pity upon him and join him with Eddie once more. After all, that had been how _Zanlyos _had carried on his affair with _Eiwoas_ in the stories of old, and maybe, just maybe, _Zanlyos_ would be drawn to the similar plight in Buck’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mini Dictionary (cont.):**
> 
> The Pass - the northeastern province of the Empire; located between the mountains of the Backlands and the Sea; characterized by its military strongholds across the land and its warring culture; honors the god of war, Iycorr, most out of the pantheon; the first of the provinces struck by the Rotlansers during the Great War; Hen's birth province
> 
> Undergrounders - a group of ruthless Assassins who aspire to live forever; natural enemies of the thieves guild, given that they target the same demographics/areas of the empire
> 
> _Xyzaruna_ – goddess of death, mercy, justice, and young children


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder to keep checking the tags, as I am regularly updating them. 
> 
> This story is rated explicit because of the consensual sexual content and, to an extent, for the language and the depiction of violence - this is a story about thieves and assassins, after all. In other words, I am only adding tags as I believe they become relevant (or realize I should have tagged it all along). The chapters thus far are a very good indication as to what to expect for the rest of the story. 
> 
> Basically: this story will not need to use the Archive warnings.

Hen was annoyingly chipper the next morning as she and Buck made their way down an old beaten path atop a pair of questionably-acquired horses. Really, if the stable master hadn’t wanted the horses stolen, he shouldn’t have left them unattended in plain sight for the taking.

They made their way out of the River District down an old, worn-down road that led northward, following the twisting Great River as it danced its way up through the province. This was the lifeblood of the entirety of the River Province. It was what connected it to the rest of the empire, namely to the Calafia Province and the empire’s capital of Angelsbury. They never made it to the Calafia Province, though. They cut through the foothills of the Milderry Mountains that marked the border with Kingsmarsh, the province west of the River. It was the only way northward into Mniagate.

They followed the crooked path through the foothills until the land flattened out in the farmlands of Mniagate then cut north again for a near straight shot to the border of the Pass. It was a long trek across the province, though rich farmlands that teetered on the edge the coast. When the sun fell beneath the horizon, they made camp along the path, and when the sun rose again, they set off once more. Through it all, Hen kept up a nice chatter of inane gossip amongst the thieves, eager as she was to beat out the oppressing silence that had set in their bones the moment the River District had disappeared beneath the horizon.

Buck thought it was the war that had made Hen this way, that had made her hate the sound of silence with a burning passion. He wasn’t entirely certain, though. He hadn’t known Hen before the war, except as the Champion of _Iycorr_, the warrior god, which had made Hen a living legend almost overnight as the news of her blessing spread out like a raging, hungry wildfire. Nobody in living memory had ever been so chosen.

Back then, long before Buck had met Hen and understood the devastating power of silence, Buck was just like everybody else. He believed the blessing of _Iycorr_ made a person a hero.

A legend.

Untouchable.

Unbreakable.

But Buck knew better now. He knew of the insanity _Iycorr_ had bred inside of Hen’s mind, the way she doubted herself and hated herself for what the war had made of her. The truth was that the blessing of the warrior god, of the god of revenge, was nothing short of a punishment. It was being plagued with the war no matter how far away Hen got. It was being tormented by the souls that needlessly, dishonorably died in the cause. It was… it was being hailed a hero of a king regent that had ordered the slaughter of Hen’s entire village in the name of warfare.

There was something horrifying poetic about Hen that resonated to Buck’s very soul.

Buck hadn’t grown up with much. A dead father, a dying mother, and an older sister who was no better off than Buck himself had been. He hadn’t grown up with anything, and still the world had eaten him up and spit him out, and somewhere along the line, the gods had blessed him with a new father—or so the official story goes. But even with that, it was the thieves who had given him everything he had, everything he was.

And Hen? She had grown up to lose everything and be sent off to be champion—hero—of a war that had taken all that she had, but the thieves, they had given her all she needed back.

“Never thought I’d set eyes on this land again, you know,” said Hen, after a while.

She had grown progressively quieter over the course of the trip as they had trod northward until she hadn’t spoken in a few leagues, and Buck had just gotten used to the silence. They had traversed across the majority of Mniagate, the certainty of their progress marked by the rolling hills of Wade Hills around them. On the far horizon, beyond the highest curves of the hilly range, was the beginning of the Pass. Their journey was going to be more arduous from here on as landscape became increasingly more treacherous.

The Pass was amongst the richest provinces in the entire empire, probably just behind the Calafia Province and possibly even equal to the Backlands. It housed all of the great forts that had protected the empire from the Rotlansers’ attack during the great war. It was a coastal province that held the busiest port at the foot of the Washing River, which flooded out into the sea.

Hen had grown up not too far from the port hold of Bryport in the Pass, a tiny village that used to set on the banks of the Washing. It was no longer so. What the war had not destroyed, the river had consumed. All that was left as a testament to the village’s existence were crumbling rocks that used to stand as headstones in the old graveyard—or so Hen said. Buck had never been there.

“Cor’s Fort is that direction,” said Hen, pointing westward, in the direction opposite the sea. “Near the border of Backlands. We’ll need to keep true and cross Washing River when we get to it, or else we’ll have to cross two rivers and navigate the Saint’s Passage.”

Legends said Cor’s Fort was built by the god _Iycorr_ himself. Whether that was true or not, Buck didn’t know. All he knew about the place was that it was named for the warrior god and that it had been the refuge to where the handful of survivors of the Wilson Massacre had been taken.

“I thought we were heading for Iy’s Landing?”

“We are. That’s on this side of the fort,” answered Hen, darkly. 

Buck wondered, not for the first time since he learned of this assignment, whether Hen was really the right person for this job.

“We need to cross the border before nightfall,” said Hen, a beat later. “I, uh, think I know of a place we can stay tonight.”

With that, she set her horse to a gallop and left Buck with no choice but to hurry to catch up.

Hen’s refuge was a farmhouse somewhere just before Washing River. She left Buck with the horses at the edge of the property, a line only realized because of the straight cut of the edge of the fields. Buck had seldom been this far northeast, but it was nowhere near the same land that he grew up on hundreds of leagues nearly straight to the west on the opposite border of the empire. Where Ghostwood, Buck’s home province, was a wasteland of icy tundra and thick pine groves, the Pass was rich with farmlands and rolling hills and, this far inland, the tantalizingly sweet scent of fresh fruits hanging ripe from their trees.

Buck didn’t imagine anybody went hungry here.

Hen returned a little while later with a basket full of fresh bread and sweet blackberry jam and a whole roasted rabbit that made Buck salivate at the very sight of it. He followed Hen into the old barn just beyond the corn patch. It was empty of livestock but the ground was covered in straw and there were barrels pushed up against the right hand side. Buck figured this place was packed full in the colder months with all of the necessities that a long winter in the north demanded.

They made quick work of dressing down the horses and setting them up in an empty stall with hay and some water from the cistern just around the side of the barn. It was sweaty work, but the horses needed their rest as much as Buck and Hen did. 

“Belongs to an old war comrade,” said Hen, as a way of an explanation that wasn’t really one whenever Buck asked who owned this place. “Doesn’t want anything to do with the thieves, I don’t reckon, but hardly anybody in this place can say no to, uh, the Champion.”

She blushed as she said it, her cheeks darkening like the coming of a storm across a night sky. Even carrying the title for years, she wasn’t comfortable with it. Buck doubted she ever would be.

“There should be a couple of bed rolls back here,” added Hen, as she navigated around a stack of empty wooden boxes to the rear of the barn. “It’s where their hands usually sleep overnight, but I told ‘em it would do.”

“It’s certainly better than last night,” said Buck.

And it was. They had spent the previous night bunked down in the middle of the open fields of Mniagate. Buck had woken up to a slight drizzle that had taken hours to let off.

He plopped down on the nearest bed roll and snatched the basket out of Hen’s hands. He reached for the bread that was still warm to the touch. He ripped the edge of it off and stuck it in his mouth, too eager for food to bother with the jam for now.

“So tell me about this hit,” said Buck.

“We’re after a diamond amulet that is said to bestow the blessing of _Xyzaruna_.”

“I know that,” said Buck, waving Hen off as he tore into more of the bread, this time slathering it in tangy blackberry jam. “Why is our client after it?”

Hen shot Buck a dry smile.

“Doesn’t matter for our purposes, does it?”

No, it didn’t. They were thieves. When hired, they didn’t ask questions. They just did a clean job and got their well-deserved payment.

“It matters if you’re returning to a place you hate in order to do a job,” Buck pointed out. He swiped his finger through the jam that threatened to fall from his bread and licked it off, savoring the taste on his tongue. He swore the berry jams were nowhere near this sweet in the River District. “Anybody else could have gone on this job with me. Hell, I probably could have done it alone. There’s a reason you’re here.”

Hen shifted uncomfortably, though she tried to play it off like she were merely offering Buck half of the roasted rabbit. Buck took the meat but didn’t let go of the topic. He was onto something.

“Spill it,” he commanded.

“There’s nothing to spill,” said Hen. “You just got back from Angelsbury. We weren’t about to send you back out on another long run without some back up.”

“Bullshit,” said Buck, with a snort. “I made three separate trips to Peniryle and the Highlands last month within a fortnight, and Peniryle is twice as far from the River District. Tell it to me straight.”

Hen sighed.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“There is, because I can think of about twenty places closer to the River District—hell, _in the River District itself_—where we could snatch a diamond amulet of _Xyzaruna_, so why in _Gothawens’_ name are we in the Pass right now?”

“You’re like a damn dog, Buck. A damn dog after a bone.”

“’S what makes me a good thief, isn’t it?”

Hen sighed again. She bit off a chunk of her rabbit roast and chewed it with more vigor than it probably needed. When she was finished, she washed it down with some water from her canteen.

“Askin’ questions like this could get you killed.”

“Forgetting to set a noise wire could, too.”

“You really wanna know?”

Buck leveled Hen with a look. It made the corners of Hen’s lips tug toward another smile, but it was lost before it even formed. Something heavy settled in the pit of Buck’s stomach.

“All right. Remember when we sent you to Angelsbury?”

Eddie’s face popped into Buck’s mind, but he mentally pushed it away. He nodded.

“Well, you weren’t really there to steal that statue of _Zanlyos_.”

Buck furrowed his brows, thinking carefully over the instructions Chim had given him for that particular target. He had been certain he had followed them to a tee. Get in, grab the statue, and get out without getting caught. He had done it exactly as commanded—well, he had gotten out without a scrape, so he figured that counted, too.

“That job, this one—they’re, uh, personal.”

It clicked for Buck, then, like maybe it was there in his brain, simmering under the surface, this whole time. He froze in place, holding the jar of blackberry jam just above the bread where the slightest hair of a tip would send the sticky contents cascading into his lap.

“You bastards. You set me up.”

Hen shrugged but didn’t deny it.

“You were after Eddie this whole time.”

That caught Hen’s attention. Her gaze snapped to Buck in the blink of an eye, and she sat up straighter. The bottom fell out of Buck’s stomach.

“What exactly happened in Angelsbury?”

Buck schooled his face as neutral as possible, as he set the bread and jam neatly in his lap. It had been a rookie mistake, calling Eddie by his first name. Clients and targets were never more than surnames, if even that. It helped to keep the job separate from whatever morals the thieves might have had. Admittedly, Buck didn’t really have a lot of morals when it came to stealing or breaking and entering or fudging a few numbers on business ledgers. But he still found it to be more… professional to oblige by the thieves’ unspoken convention—especially because such anonymity prevented him from having to lie to his father every time they spoke.

Never had Buck slipped up. Never had he had a reason to. Until now. And it just had to have been in front of Hen. She may have thought Buck was like a dog after a bone, but Hen was a bloodhound after a scent.

“Just like I told Chim: I picked the lock to the house, set a noise wire, found the statue unguarded in the basement below, then got out. Nothing more to it—not that there should have been. There wasn’t a sign that anyone had even been there in ages.”

Hen narrowed her eyes and curled her top lip. Buck tried not to look like a robber caught red-handed. Given how often, especially in the early days of his career, he had, in fact, gotten caught red-handed, it really shouldn’t have been as hard to pull off as it was.

“Funny,” said Hen, in a voice that suggested whatever it was that was supposed to be funny was not actually at all. “You say nobody had been there for ages, but, uh, my pendant says otherwise.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the familiar silver pendant that had been Buck’s saving grace in Angelsbury. Buck stared at it, unsure as to how metal could tell a story—or really tell Hen anything. It was as unblemished as the day Hen had slipped around his neck and it had been still just as shiny when Buck had laid it on Hen’s bedside table the night he had gotten back from Angelsbury.

“’Cause you see, Buck, you shouldn’t have been able to take this thing off on your own.”

“What? That’s—that’s—”

“The curse of _Adiara_, isn’t it?” interrupted Hen, a sly smile on her lips. She looked all together too pleased with the turn of events. “You’re familiar with it?”

Buck nodded, stunned.

Everybody was familiar with the story of _Adiara_ to some extent, but Buck’s father was particularly fond of retelling the stories of the gods, so Buck had learned them well over the past decade or so. _Adiara_ was the goddess of the home, family, and unions. Generally, she was regarded as a warm and benevolent goddess. People prayed to her to bless their marriages, and, if she deemed them worthy, those marriages would last peaceably forever—like Buck’s father’s second marriage seemed to be.

As benevolent as she was, though, _Adiara_ was also vengeful. She was responsible for the failed marriages and the horrors that belied them, like what had happened to the Empire’s first queen. She was also responsible for the plagues that hit the people, for the droughts that consumed the crops, and for the disasters that destroyed everything in between.

People only spoke of _Adiara’s_ curses in the dead of night, in whispers so quiet that one had to strain to hear them. For _Adiara_ was the goddess of unions, and it was within her power to bind those in unions together. Usually, this was done symbolically, like through the marriage ceremonies performed in her temples. Sometimes, though, _Adiara_ was known to manifest her curse in physical objects: rings to keep partners faithful, cuffs to keep servants loyal, and necklaces to keep families together.

The heavy weight in Buck’s stomach twisted into knots.

“The thing is, well, you shouldn’t have been able to take this off without Chim or me doing it for you, but you did, and Chim tells me he watched you pull it out of your pouch that night when you got back, so you see where this is going, right?”

Buck did, and it didn’t look good for him—or, rather, for Eddie. He let himself think of Eddie then. He remembered the splash of ink across Eddie’s arm and the way that Eddie had laughed when Buck had said that neither Hen nor Chim had had much to say about the job. Longing burned like fire in Buck’s heart.

“You lied to us, Buck.”

Buck said nothing, because he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound insane. He didn’t trust his brain. He had—oh, _Gothawens_—he had done what he never said he would. He betrayed his guild. His _family_.

“Because there is only one other person in the entire world who can take this necklace off, and I think you know exactly who it is.”

Hen paused. Buck wondered for a split second whether the thieves were more akin to the Undergrounders than they had ever led on—if Hen might slit his throat for lying about Eddie of Diaz. It was a ridiculous notion as soon as it entered Buck’s mind, but it didn’t dissipate the fears of a similarly horrible fate: being kicked out of the thieves.

The thieves were the only family Buck had left now that his own blood were mostly dead and his father had moved on with a new wife who had a family of her own. He had been pushed aside like the nothingness a spare is. So, as far as Buck was concerned, the thieves were the only family Buck had had for a long time now.

“You’ve gotta help me out, Buck. Help me understand what is going on, because I know you, and Chim knows you, and we both know that you wouldn’t do something this—this _stupid_ if you didn’t have a really good reason for doing so, and we gotta know that reason. If you’re in trouble—if Eddie has done something—threatened you—we can help you out. Fix it, even. You just gotta let us.”

Hen looked so serious, her eyes wide and boring straight into Buck’s, as she sat forward. She reached for Buck, laying her hand on Buck’s knee and squeezing it tight. Buck glanced down at Hen’s hand. His mind flashed to Eddie’s hands and how they had roamed all over his naked body, over his legs and Buck spread them wide for him.

A blush rushed up Buck’s cheeks. He glanced back up at Hen, locking eyes with her once more. He swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth and almost choked on it. He prayed to _Xyzaruna_ for her mercy, even as he wondered whether he should be silently begging for Eddie’s forgiveness instead.

“It’s nothing like that,” he said, and he felt his cheeks burn even hotter. “It’s, um—”

And thankfully—or maybe not—he didn’t have to say what it actually was, because Hen took in his flustered appearance, the way he could hardly hold her gaze, the crimson color to his dirty cheeks, and Hen knew.

“Holy _Eiwoas_, you slept with him!” howled Hen.

She cackled like a maniac—like Buck had told the best joke in the entire land, and she would die if she didn’t laugh. It was a guttural thing, one that was ripped straight from her belly and vomited out her mouth, and Buck didn’t think she would ever stop.

Buck folded his arms across his chest and set back against the barn wall, the rest of his bread and jam forgotten in his lap.

“Are you quite done?” he demanded, after what he believed to be a rather reasonable time to wait in order to inquire as to such.

Hen was still laughing as heartily as she had been when she began, and Buck swore his cheeks were going to burn off before she ever finished on her own.

“S—Sorry,” she gasped, hiccupping out another laugh in the midst of the apology. It sort of took away from the sincerity of the sentiment. “It’s just that—it’s just that I knew that was gonna be one hell of a sweep! And Chim—”

Hen broke off as she gave into his laughter once more, but she fought to temper it at Buck’s glare.

“Chim didn’t believe me,” she managed to finish.

Winded, she clutched at his side, but Buck had no sympathy for her.

“What? You knew I was gonna sleep with him?”

Hen grinned, like she was liable to start laughing again at any moment, and if she ended up laughing, Buck was going to sock her. He swore to _Iycorr _he was.

“Knew? Nah. Considered it as a possibility? Oh, hell yes.”

Buck narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Does Eddie, like, sleep with everybody who breaks into his house?”

“If that were true, he and I would’ve slept together half of a dozen times,” she said, with a wrinkle of her nose, as if the idea were too repugnant to dwell upon for too long, “so, uh, no. Not at all. You’re the first, in fact.”

“That he’s slept with?”

Hen looked him dead in the eyes once more. Gone was the laughter, the light-hearted and twisted amusement she had gotten from Buck’s confession. She was serious. Deadly so, and the knots in Buck’s stomach came back with a vengeance.

“That has stolen from him and lived to tell the story of it.”

The blood drained from Buck’s face so fast it might as well have not even been there in the first place. He thought back to the sword pressed into his back, the way that he had believed so vehemently that, one way or another, he was going to make it out of there.

“You sent me off to die?”

Hen winced. She shook her head, though the lingering apology written plain across the tightness of her jaw told a different story.

“I gave you the pendant, didn’t I? We figured that, uh, Eddie wouldn’t kill you if we sent you in with it.”

“Figured?!” demanded Buck. His voice was scarily close to a squeak, but he figured it had a really good reason to be. “You _figured_ that Eddie wouldn’t kill me?”

“Yep,” answered Hen, popping the ‘p’ like it shouldn’t matter that there was a big difference between figuring something and actually knowing it. “And, look, we were right. He didn’t kill you.”

“He damn well could have.”

“So could Chim, had he really wanted to when you outright lied to his face about Eddie. You know he’s a little ticked about that—but once he knows the real reason, oh, boy, will it be a good laugh!”

“Hen,” snapped Buck, before Hen could start laughing again.

Hen grinned, unapologetically. She reached for the jar of blackberry jam that Buck had abandoned earlier and snatched up the other loaf of bread.

“Listen, you know good and well that we wouldn’t have really sent you in if we thought you were in any real danger.”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t say they were our thieves, now did I? People have been tracking down Eddie for ages. It just so happens that we—and by we, I mean you—were successful.”

Buck thought for a minute, processing everything that he remembered about Eddie and about how Eddie had been so eager to kill him until he saw the pendant around his neck. He held out his bread for Hen to pour some blackberry jam on it. He was hungry again now that he had suffered through telling Hen the truth.

“Why do—I mean, why is Eddie such a big deal?”

“Ah,” said Hen, in between bites.

Together, the two of them were quickly taking care of all of the blackberry jam and bread they had left. There was still another couple of loaves, some dried meat, and another jar of jam left in the basket that was to be their provisions for the rest of the trip to Iy’s Landing.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

She paused to lick some blackberries off her hand, where it had ran off her bread and down the length of her pinky finger. She glanced over at Buck and grinned, purple-stained teeth and all.

“You know Eddie quiet well, I presume. Care to hazard a guess?”

Buck glared at Hen, even as the blush raised in his cheeks. Eddie’s face flashed in his mind, the way he had looked at the penultimate moment when there was nobody and nothing else in the entire world except the two of them and Buck had wished the moment would never, ever end. He pushed it away, but desire pooled in the pit of his belly. 

“I’m not going to tell you what Eddie was like in bed, if that’s what you’re angling for.”

“Uh, no,” said Hen, disgusted just like Buck knew she would be, and Buck counted it as a minor victory. “Did you happen to know anything unusual about Eddie? You know, except for the fact that he jumped your bones.”

Buck rolled his eyes as Hen grinned, proud of herself for the dig. Buck supposed that, maybe, he deserved the turn of the tables. He had lied to Hen after all—and to Chim, but he wasn’t going to think about that for now.

“Would you stop dancing around and just come out with it?”

Because, really, Hen could keep this up forever and never tell Buck what it was about Eddie that was supposed to be usual enough that people had died trying to steal it from him.

“All right. Answer me this. When you snatched that statue from Eddie’s place in Angelsbury, did you happen to notice the, uh, Amulet of _Xyzaruna_ laying around anywhere?”

“Wait—you don’t mean _the_ Amulet of _Xyzaruna_?”

Hen smiled, slyly, and it was the first one she wore during this entire conversation that didn’t make Buck want to tear out his own hair.

“That’s—that’s a legend. It doesn’t actually exist.”

“Ah, but it does.”

“You’re crazy.”

Hen ran a finger along the etching on the one side of the pendant, the one with the flame. Something tugged at the back of Buck’s mind, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

“I’d have agreed with you, years ago,” she said, softly. Her eyes took on a distant glint, like she was physically there with Buck but mentally a thousand leagues away across time, back to a bloody battlefield surrounded by the cries of dying soldiers. “I wasn’t just—_Iycorr_ didn’t choose me because of my prowess in battle. He chose me, because I carried the Mark of _Xyzaruna_—her amulet—and so death couldn’t touch me.”

Hen took a deep, shuddering breath. She locked eyes with Buck, and the distant glint was still there, though dwindling by the second.

“That’s why I don’t—”

She stopped to struggle with her next words, like there was a dam of them threatening to break out but she couldn’t pick the best ones to let loose.

“People are wrong. When they look at me, they see a Champion. A natural-born hero. But that’s not me. That’s—I mean, that amulet—if it weren’t for Eddie, I would be dead. If it weren’t for Eddie, _Iycorr _wouldn’t have chosen me.”

“You don’t believe that,” said Buck, because, really, Hen couldn’t.

Buck had seen Hen in battle. With or without _Iycorr’s_ blessing, Hen was the bravest, strongest warrior Buck had ever met. Hen could run circles around her opponent. She could bring the enemy to its knees with barely any effort at all. Some of it may have come from _Iycorr_ and his blessing, but Buck was not naïve enough to think that enough of it to amount to anything actually did. Hen was a force few could reckon with.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” said Hen, “because it’s all a lie. This amulet, it’s—it was Eddie’s. I met him when we were kids. He came from a family of traders who made yearly passes through our village on their way to Bryport to sell their goods to the merchants in the port.”

Buck wanted to interrupt and tell Hen that she didn’t have to rehash her past, because Buck understood the demons that could lurk there. He certainly didn’t like going around talking about his parents who were rotting in the frozen dirt of the gods forsaken tundra of his childhood. But his curiosity got the better of him. Hen spoke so seldom of her past or of her family.

“One year, _Adiara_ set off a deadly plague on my village, and we were all dying. My mother—she was dead by the time Eddie’s family happened upon our pitiful excuse for a shack. I was sick, and it didn’t matter, because I didn’t have anyone left. I didn’t—”

She stopped then and dropped her gaze from Buck to her own lap where the crumbs of her bread lay scattered out across her trousers. She looked lost and downtrodden. Her lips were turned down into a frown. Her shoulders were curved into herself. Buck imagined this was as close to Hen ever came to falling apart in front of another person.

It was intimate and unsettling at the same time.

“I was dying, and I begged for them to leave me there—to just let me die. I told them they could have everything we owned if they would just leave me there to waste away—but they—they wouldn’t. Leave me, that is. They took me in, Eddie’s family. I saw sick as the day is long, nearly dead, and they didn’t give up on me. They loaded up the little we all had worth taking and brought me back to the Backlands with them.”

Hen looked back up at Buck, her eyes redden with unshed tears of a painful past.

“I was still dying. Their physician, there was nothing he could do for me, but Eddie refused to let me die, so he—he gave me his amulet. Said it had been passed down through his family for generations, borne by the firstborn child to pass to the eldest of their own heirs. It was—it was unheard of, only I didn’t understand at the time. For Eddie to willingly to give up his protection, well… it was the bravest thing anybody had ever done for me and Eddie didn’t even think twice.”

Buck let out the breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding.

“So that amulet? It was _the_ Amulet of _Xyzaruna_? It was the protector of death?”

Hen nodded. She hesitated before she spoke again, like she were carefully measuring her words.

“When I got word that my village had been destroyed by the Rotlansers invaders, well, I couldn’t stand back and let it go. I had to go to war. It was what a good daughter of the Pass did. The Rotlansers had made it personal, after all. I went off to fight in the war, and Eddie, well, he didn’t like the idea of me going alone, so he came with me for a while and when he couldn’t anymore, he sent me with the Amulet instead, and the rest is, uh, I mean—you know the rest.”

“And you gave it back to him after the war?”

“Yeah,” said Hen.

She cleared his throat, and, when she spoke again, she sounded more like normal. More like they were talking about nothing more than the inane gossip that floated around the rotunda back in the River District.

“Almost the moment it was over, I high-tailed it back to the Backlands to give it to Eddie and, uh, ran into a certain thief there.”

“Chim.”

“Yep,” said Hen, with a laugh. “He was trying to break into one of the family manors near Eddie’s home estate. He ran into some hot water and quite literally stumbled into the open arms that were the Eddie’s family. They took him in, too. Took care of him while he recovered from his wounds, and then when Chim returned to the River District, he took me and Eddie with him.”

“But Eddie didn’t stay long?”

Hen shook her head.

“About a year, maybe a little more. He was—well, a good thief, but his real talents lay… elsewhere.”

“Does this have anything to do with how he can apparently know when people are there even when he isn’t?”

“Sort of,” said Hen. “To be honest, I think he was looking for something back then, and the River District just didn’t have it.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. That’s just a guess,” said Hen, with a shrug. “A while back, Chim told me the truth of why he had been in the Backlands all of those years ago. Said he was looking for the Amulet, said a client was willing to pay really good money for it, but, uh, once he realized who actually had it, well, it was probably the only job he has ever willingly given up.”

Buck wiped his sticky hands off on the bedroll beneath him.

“Why the sudden interest in the Amulet again? You’re not seriously going to steal it from Eddie, are you? After everything he’s done for you?”

Hen shook her head so vehemently Buck would have thought he had insulted her. Maybe he had, given the history between Hen and Eddie.

“We’re not looking for the Amulet. We’re looking for him, and our best way to track him is to search for the Amulet. Heard it through the grapevine that he’s got a sizeable bounty on his head—the exact type of a bounty that the Undergrounders are no doubt very interested in.”

“You mean…”

Hen looked Buck straight in the eye.

“Somebody out there wants Eddie of Diaz dead, and they’re willing to pay good money for it, and it’s up to us to find him before they do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mini-Dictionary (cont.)**
> 
> Kingsmarsh – the province to the west of the River Province; consists primarily of wetlands
> 
> Mniagate – the province north of the River Province and south of the Pass; a coastal province on the edge of the Sea; full of rich farmlands
> 
> Peniryle – a western province; located south of Ghostwood; covered almost entirely by forests
> 
> The Highlands – a western province located south of Peniryle; characterized by its plateaus in the east and, in the western part of the province, its mountains, which are similar in size to those up in the Backlands
> 
> _Gothawens_ – the leader of the leader of the gods; goddess of knowledge, war (opposite _Iycorr_), and justice (opposite _Xyzaruna_); protects scholars and foot soldiers; bestows favor upon those who take unmet justice into their own hands; believed to be the smartest of the entire pantheon of gods
> 
> _Adiara_ – goddess of the home, family, and marriage; in the recent era, she is known to also be the goddess of plagues, droughts, and disasters because of her rivalry with _Ityae_
> 
> _Ityae_ \- goddess of the sky and storms and agriculture; patron goddess of farmers


	4. Chapter 4

Iy’s Landing was a bust.

By the looks of it, the place was almost exactly what Buck expected of a citadel named for the great warrior god. The buildings were made of sturdy rock and hunkered low to the ground beneath the massive walls that protected them. They housed nobody except old warrior families, which made up the entirety of the local population. The streets were narrow and rock-paved and all led to an open square that was dominated by a big statue of _Iycorr _which stood proudly in the center of it all.

Hen, despite herself, had to stop and pray to it. Now that Buck knew the real reason Hen didn’t like the title of Champion, it made a little more sense to him as to why Hen was still reverent after everything that had happened.

Buck paid his respects, too, if only to appease his father, who would, no doubt, be very disappointed in him if he were to pass the godly statue by without the first prayer. He tried not to think about why it still mattered he followed his father’s rule or why he even let his father’s opinion affect him. Hadn’t Buck learned his lesson from the last time they had spoken?

“Where to now?” Buck asked, later, after he and Hen had paid their respects.

They strode side-by-side down the winding stone paths through the citadel. The stones were perfectly laid beneath their feet and looked as though a few of them had recently been replaced. Setting this close to the border of the mining country of the Backlands, the roads here were in much better condition than any Buck and Hen had traveled upon throughout this entire trip.

“Maybe the Backlands, but I think that would be a waste of time,” said Hen.

She had her hands stuck in the pockets of her trousers, but she wasn’t looking all around her, awed by the sights, like Buck was. Of course, this was far from her first trip here to Iy’s Landing. Buck, though, couldn’t get over how uniform everything was, how the buildings lined up like they were knights marching to war. It was so far from the hodgepodge makeup of the buildings on the marshy land along the riverbank back in the River District that it was hard to fathom they belonged in the same empire.

“He wouldn’t dare bring trouble to Chr—to the family.”

Hen fell silent for a few steps, pondering over her thoughts. Buck left her to it, hardly paying attention to her anyway. He was too enraptured with the bakery shop they were passing. In the window was a fresh apple pie that smelled so good, even over the stench that seemed integrated into every single citadel, that Buck’s fingers itched to take it. He wouldn’t—there were too many witnesses around, and even he, one of the best thieves of the guild, had his limits—but it was tempting enough to occupy his mind while Hen planned their next move.

It was then, as Buck was salivating over the delicious aroma of the pie, that he saw it out of the corner of his eye: a flash of a red and orange juxtaposed against a green, Northern-style doublet.

Buck stopped short, whipping his head toward the direction that had caught his eye. His heart pounded in throat even as he cursed himself for reacting so instantly to _nothing_. Northern-style doublets were a dime a dozen in the North, especially so close to the mountains of the Pass.

Still, Buck’s eyes ran wild over the street. There was a crowd of people waiting for their turn at the selection of meat at the butcher’s and another gathered around the open-air stall apothecary. For a long moment, Buck thought his eyes really had been playing tricks on him. There wasn’t hide or hair of orange, let alone red.

The Northerners preferred darker colors, blues and browns and grays, like the colors of the mines or of the hills. Reds and oranges came from blossom fields in the southern part of the Empire, where their flowers could be made into precious, expensive dyes. Hardly any of the warriors or their families had any interest in standing out in the bright hues, so the likelihood that Buck was seeing only what he wished were there was fair.

Buck was just about to give up when he spotted the flash of red and orange again, standing just in front of the door to the inn. He recognized the curl of black hair peeking out from beneath the hood, and his heart skipped a beat. There was no doubt in his mind. He had not been seeing things he only wished were there. It was Eddie, alive and in the flesh and obviously waiting for something as he stood poised on the doorstep to the inn.

That was when Eddie turned, ever so slightly, just enough to look directly at Buck. There was too much distance between them for Buck to make out the color of Eddie’s eyes or the shape of his nose, but Buck knew it was him. He knew by the familiar, smoldering weight of Eddie’s gaze, and the desire that pooled almost instantly in the pit of Buck’s belly. Adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Eddie turned away in the next beat and disappeared into the inn.

Buck made to follow him but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, his hand reaching for the dagger at his hip before his brain caught up to him. It was only Hen who had him. He dropped his hand from his hip. He had forgotten Hen was even here.

“Were you even listening to me?” asked Hen.

Buck shot Hen a rueful smile and resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder at the inn. Eddie was right there, just beyond that door.

“I said that I think we should talk to some of my old contacts here. Surely, one of them has their ears to the pavement.”

“D’you think they’ll talk if they see you with me, though?” asked Buck.

It was a safe question. While the guild itself had a list of contacts, each thief had their own select sources that they had picked up over the course of their business dealings. Usually, private sources were more selective about to whom they gave their intel and didn’t usually divulge sensitive information in front of other thieves. Buck had learned that the hard way—and it had nearly cost him a job in Kingsmarsh a few months back.

Besides, if Buck could get away from Hen for even a little while, he could sneak into the inn and see exactly what Eddie was up to. He knew that wanting to ditch Hen was as wrong as concealing the fact that he had just spotted Eddie, but there was a tug in his gut that told him this was something he had to do on his own. Just for now.

“What are you going to do?”

Buck shrugged, trying to act as normal as he could, like nothing had changed in the past five minutes.

“Scope out the locals. Hang around in the market, maybe. See if there’s any talk of Undergrounders or Eddie here.”

Hen sighed. It was obvious that she didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but she nodded after a short pause. Even she had to accept that they needed to split up. Buck couldn’t feasibly go with her to meet with some of her contacts, and those were potentially the contacts with the most valuable information.

“Meet me by the Statue of _Iycorr_ in two hours, all right?”

So Buck agreed, and they parted ways. Buck headed for the market just for show, but as soon as he was certain Hen was gone, he doubled back to the inn.

Just like all inns throughout the empire, inside, the fire was dancing and so were the people to the bard’s tune. There were a dozen or so patrons scattered around the large, open room that served as the common area of the inn. A barkeep kept the mead flowing. He was a big, burly fellow with a booming laugh and a knack for having a tankard ready whenever someone went dry.

One glance around the room, and Eddie wasn’t there. Buck had not really expected to be so lucky. Buck tried his best to blend in with the other patrons. It was easy, because nobody shot him a second glance, except the barkeep who walked straight up to him. Buck had a denial upon his lips. He didn’t want any mead, but that wasn’t what the barkeep wanted.

“Straight upstairs, then to your right.”

“Huh?”

“Your companion, he arrived here a few minutes before you did. Said I should keep an eye out for a man in brown leather. That’d be you, right?”

But the barkeep didn’t wait for Buck to confirm. He wandered off to offer another tankard of mead to a busty woman singing off key to the bard’s tune.

Buck made his way to the stairs then took them two at a time. The door to the room on the right was shut, but the knob gave easily when Buck tried it, giving him access to what turned out to be a run-of-the-mill rent room. In the middle of the room, was a double bed made of feathers. A small table with a couple of wooden chairs stood on one side of the room. On the back wall was a paned window, through which the sun shined, and in front of it stood Eddie.

He was devastatingly handsome in the sunlight. He had removed his hood, so it now lay atop the small table. His black hair shined in the sun. Buck itched to run his fingers through Eddie’s hair, just to see if it was really as soft as it looked reflecting in the sunlight.

“Do you make it a habit of disappearing?” asked Eddie, in barely more than a murmur that seemed to echo in the room.

He didn’t turn from the window. Buck stood just inside of the closed doorway, and the distance between them felt endless—like one end of the empire to another, like Ghostwood to the River, the Backlands to Kingsmarsh.

“That’s rich, coming from somebody like you.”

Eddie snorted, softly. Buck still couldn’t see his face, but he knew Eddie’s lips were quirked up into a mischievous, approving grin. It was almost palpable in the air.

“Surprised Chim hasn’t already put your head through a wall, with that tongue of yours.”

“I make Chim a very rich man.”

Eddie hummed in his throat. He glanced over his shoulder then and met Buck’s gaze, and Buck’s heart stopped beating in his chest for an entire second. He had forgotten how intense Eddie’s rich brown eyes were, how they seemed to be able to see straight through Buck to his very soul. Longing churned in Buck’s gut.

“You never even told me your name.”

Buck blinked, surprised, because he hadn’t. He opened his mouth to tell Eddie—to maybe hear how his name would sound wrapped around Eddie’s tongue—but Eddie shook his head.

“I don’t need to know it, but, tell me: what’s brought you to the ghost town of the war? To Iy’s Landing?”

“I think you know.”

Eddie shrugged. He turned around to face Buck and leaned up against the window behind him. He looked like he hadn’t shaved since the last time Buck had seen him, his jaw dusted with a few days’ worth of a stubbly beard. Buck wondered what it would feel like brushing against his own jaw, against his nipples, against the soft of his thighs.

“Fair enough. Why don’t you tell me what lie you fed Hen to get her off your back?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. She’s, um, running her own errand in the city.”

Eddie huffed, shaking his head. He pushed off the wall and advanced toward Buck, a frown on his face. Buck stood rooted to his spot in front of the door, his eyes lockeds on Eddie’s mouth, and maybe he should be more cautious—Eddie had drawn a sword on him last time they had met, after all—but, really, all Buck could think of was how much he wanted to kiss the frown right off Eddie’s pretty face.

“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?”

Eddie stopped right before Buck, and Buck was a couple of inches taller than Eddie, so Eddie had to look up ever so slightly to look Buck in the eyes. It was tantalizing, having Eddie so close. Buck could feel the heat off Eddie’s body through the mere centimeters that separated them. He swallowed against the urge to thrust his hips forward and brush himself against Eddie, desperate to know if Eddie were as affected as Buck was right now.

“But you already knew that.”

Eddie licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to Buck’s mouth for a split second.

“Yeah,” murmured Eddie. It was more like a purr. “I guess I did.”

Then Eddie’s lips crashed against Buck’s with such ferocity that they stumbled backward into the door, and Buck kissed back with equal fervor. Eddie’s hands danced down the sides of Buck’s armor, beneath his arms, to undo the laces. Buck moaned into Eddie’s mouth as he, too, made easy work of Eddie’s doublet.

It was a race to see who could rid the other first, and Eddie won by a landslide. He claimed his reward by licking down Buck’s neck then farther on down to Buck’s right nipple. Buck moaned and threw his head back, banging it against the wood of the door and seeing stars. He wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain, but he didn’t care. Eddie released one nipple then moved over to suck on the other, and Buck swore _Eiwoas_ underneath his breath, his hands going for Eddie’s head and his fingers tangling in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie nipped at Buck’s sensitive nipple once more then claimed Buck’s mouth in another world-stopping kiss, the kind that burned in Buck’s lungs until he thought it would consume him. Eddie tugged him away from the door over to the bed, and they fell upon it, their lips still locked together. Buck landed on top, straddled across Eddie’s hips, Eddie’s hard dick pressed against Buck’s own.

When they broke for air, Buck pulled back to stare down at Eddie and drink in exactly how debauched he looked, his red lips slick with Buck’s spit and split into a grin. It was a delicious sight. Desire churned like a Southern storm in Buck’s belly. He wanted to devour Eddie until he was nothing except for Buck’s and Buck’s alone.

He dove in for another kiss, and Eddie met him greedily. Buck thrust his hips forward, his dick sliding against Eddie’s in the most devastating of ways. Buck shuddered, breaking the kiss to pant against Eddie’s lips and pray to _Eiwoas_ that he wasn’t going to come right now and end everything. He drew in a shaky breath then kissed his way down Eddie’s neck and chest, all the way to Eddie’s nipples, where he swirled his tongue around each one in turn but didn’t tarry. He had a different destination in mind, and he licked all the way down Eddie’s toned stomach until it gave away to a trail of black hair leading straight to Eddie’s dick.

Buck licked the length of Eddie’s cock, from the base to the tip, and relished at the curse that fell unheeded from Eddie’s lips. He teased Eddie, running his tongue up and down Eddie’s dick until Eddie was nothing more than pleas for Buck to take him in his mouth, and just when Eddie seemed on the verge of breaking—as Eddie’s fingers found their way messily into Buck’s hair—did Buck give him what he wanted.

He swallowed Eddie’s cock down to the base in one fell swoop, swallowing against the urge to choke. It had been too long since Buck had done this, longer still since he had tried so much at once with no build up, but Buck couldn’t wait any longer. Eddie’s cock was a heavy, welcomed weight on his tongue. It was intense and thick in Buck’s throat, and he swallowed around it once again just to feel the way that Eddie’s fingers clenched in Buck’s hair.

Eddie was like wet clay beneath Buck’s talented mouth. He twitched in ecstasy exactly when Buck wanted him to. He moaned Buck’s name like it was the holiest of all words in the entirety of the Empiric language. He was a wreck, a volcano one the verge of spewing, a lightning waiting to strike.

Buck pulled off, sitting back on his haunches and wiping his mouth with the back of his mouth. Eddie cried out Buck’s name, his hands reaching for Buck even as he couldn’t reach him from laying on his back. He drew in gasping breathes, his cock hard and red and wet with Buck’s spit, just barely on this side of spent.

Buck grinned to himself. Last time, Eddie had had Buck at his mercy. Now, the tables had turned, and Buck was loving every minute of it.

He leaned forward, careful to keep from brushing his dick against Eddie’s, no matter how much he wanted it. The slightest bit of friction would send Eddie pivoting into Oblivion, but Buck wanted to draw this out for as long as he could. He pressed his lips against Eddie’s ear, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin, and felt as Eddie shivered underneath him.

“I want everything.”

Eddie nodded, eager and jerky. He probably would have given Buck just about anything that Buck asked for right now. Buck grinned to himself, the desire in his belly intensifying like a great storm blowing across the shores of Mniagate.

He reached for the vial setting innocuously convenient on the bedside table. A thrill went straight down his spine as he considered that its placement was anything other than a mere coincidence. Eddie had planned this—hoped for this—as much as Buck had.

Buck poured a generous amount onto his fingers and reached back to prepare himself, focusing on the way that Eddie’s eyes hungrily followed his every move instead of the faint burn of the stretch. He drew it out as long as he dared, until he felt like he could take Eddie, and not a second longer, too eager for Eddie’s cock to care about wasting any more time. He poured some more oil into the palm of his hands, corked the vial, and smeared the oil across Eddie’s cock until it was slick enough to slide into Buck.

Eddie drew in a quick, shuddering breath as Buck took Eddie’s cock in his hand. Buck positioned himself above Eddie, the tip of Eddie’s cock pressed just against the ring of Buck’s muscles, and waited. Eddie quivered, his hands went for Buck’s thighs, but he didn’t try to push Buck down like Buck thought he was going to. Instead, Eddie dug his fingers into the meat of Buck’s thighs and waited, like he knew Buck was in charge and had no qualms about ceding the power—even as Eddie’s cock leaked thick rivets of precome down its length.

Buck pressed down and gasped at the burn of Eddie’s cock as it entered him, but he didn’t stop until Eddie was flush against Buck, nothing between them and Eddie’s cock pressed against the sweet spot that made stars explode behind Buck’s closed eyes. He trembled. It was so overwhelming, Eddie inside of him again, and the high of the power he held over Eddie washed over him in waves until he was at their mercy.

Eddie reached up and dragged Buck down to him, claiming Buck’s mouth in a searing kiss, as Eddie drew back then pushed up into Buck. He set a slow, agonizing pace that he held even after Buck’s legs gave out beneath him and Buck landed flat against Eddie’s chest, holding on for dear life as his world filtered down into nothing except him and Eddie and the feel of Eddie’s cock pressed deep inside of him.

Eddie flipped them over to set a more rapid pace, and Buck drew Eddie down into another kiss, feeling boneless and out of control and held together only by Eddie’s hands on his face and Eddie’s lips smashed against his. Eddie reached down to wrap his hand around Buck’s cock, and Buck cried out Eddie’s name straight into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie worked over his cock, his hand sliding slick with precome across Buck’s sensitive skin.

It wasn’t meant to last, even as Buck prayed to _Eiwoas_ that it would forever, and Buck broke first, coming and moaning Eddie’s name and clenching around Eddie’s cock deep inside of him. The whole world exploded into white ecstasy. Buck rode the high until everything was too sensitive, and Eddie spilled inside of him.

They cleaned themselves up with a rag and a washbowl full of cool water a few minutes later, when Buck had finally regained enough of himself to let Eddie go so that he could fetch and wet the rag. Eddie ran the rag across Buck’s stomach, sopping up all of the cum like it was never there, and gently washing Buck’s still-sensitive cock and even sorer hole. Then he set about cleaning himself with the same rag.

When he was finished he left the rag in the soiled water and returned to the bed. He laid down and let Buck mold against his body, Buck’s head resting upon Eddie’s shoulder.

“Guess we should talk,” said Eddie.

His voice was rough, thick with the echo of the desire they had shared. It sent a rush of desire washing over Buck, and if Buck weren’t so sated from their activities, he could have gone for round two right then, with the damp wetness of the rag they had used to clean themselves still drying on their skins.

“You’re the Master of Death, the one chosen by _Xyzaruna_,” said Buck, cutting to the chase.

He had to, because the sun was sinking lower in the sky, visible through the window that overlooked the western side of town, and he knew that Hen would be searching for him soon. The last thing he needed was for Hen to find Eddie and him naked as the days they were born. He would never, ever live it down.

Eddie snorted. It rattled the breath in his lungs, making it rumble against Buck’s ear, flush as he was against Eddie.

“I wouldn’t call myself the Master of Death. Maybe the Protector of Death. And, technically, my family was chosen by _Xyzaruna_, not me.”

“So you don’t deny it? That you possess the Amulet of _Xyzaruna_?”

“Why should I? You know Hen. Surely, she’s told you her sob story about how she was dying until I gave her my amulet and saved her life. How she ran off to the war because of some twisted sense of loyalty. How I had to save her life again with the very same amulet, because she’s noble and brave but also stupid, and I loved her so much that I couldn’t let her march off to her death.”

Eddie paused. He brushed his fingers down the ridge of Buck’s spine, following along the bumps and curves like he were playing music upon it. He huffed and shook his head. 

“The things you do for family.”

Buck thought of the hunting accident that had claimed the life of his mother, who had no business volunteering for another run when she had already been on the last five. But every one she did was one more closer to a new life. Or, rather, to full bellies. And she had two young kids to think about, to care for. It was a hunt she couldn’t pass up. It was the hunt that would be her last. She died there, on the tundra leagues away from their pitiful shack of a home, at the mercy of the brutal storms the goddess _Ityae_ had blown across the party.

Despite everything his father had tried to instill in him, Buck didn’t think much of _Ityae_, and he didn’t think well of _Pernua_, the god of laborers, either. Both had claimed the lives of his parents in one manner or another. Maybe one day, Buck himself would be at one of their mercies. He prayed to all the gods who would listen that _Pernua_, not _Ityae_, would be the one to call him to Oblivion.

“Tell me about it,” said Buck, sarcastically, and Eddie knew that such a demand was not meant to garner an actual response.

Eddie’s chest was soft beneath Buck’s ear, and Buck could hear the steady _thump-thump_ of Eddie’s heart. It marked the passing of time, like nails falling from a candle clock. Buck knew that every beat brought him closer and closer to the moment when they would have to part once more. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face such a reality.

“Riddle me this,” said Eddie, soft, as he tangled his fingers in the locks of Buck’s hair. “Why has Hen set her eyes upon the Amulet, after all this time of denying it?”

“Never really been about the Amulet, if you want the truth.”

Eddie froze, his entire body going rigid like a plank beneath Buck.

“You know, don’t you?”

It fell as a question from Buck’s lips but did not land as one. It was obvious, by the way that Eddie’s body was stiff beneath him that Eddie did, in fact, know of the bounty upon his head.

“Well, in my line of work, among the friends I’ve made, it was only a matter of time.”

Buck craned his neck to look up at Eddie’s face, but all he could see was the outline of the ridge of Eddie’s nose and the prickly underside of Eddie’s jaw. It was nowhere near enough to discern the expression upon Eddie’s face, though that was immaterial. There were enough tell-tale signs in the rigidity of Eddie’s muscles beneath his skin.

“I don’t understand,” said Buck, finally, to break up the span of silence Eddie seemed content to lay out forever between them. “There is somebody out there who has offered good coin to have you dead, and you—what is your line of work?”

Eddie snorted.

“Is Protector of Death not enough for you?”

“You said that was a misnomer.”

“Aye.”

Buck sat up, leaning his hand on the bed next to Eddie’s naked stomach, so that he could look Eddie straight in the eyes. Eddie looked back, fearless and, somewhere in the faint glint therein, intrigued.

“What d’I gotta do to get a straight answer from your lips?”

Eddie smiled. The world might as well have stopped turning, as far as Buck was concerned, because there was scarce a thing more beautiful in the entirety of the realm or beyond that was more enticing than Eddie right now before him, naked as the day he was born and smiling at Buck like he had never before come across something so precious.

“Promise me one thing.”

Buck raised his eyebrows. He knew the weight of promises, knew that they were bound by _Adiara’s_ blood herself, and knew that such things should never be made without care. For Eddie to ask such an endeavor from him sent a sobering chill down Buck’s spine.

“And what’s that?”

“After I tell you, you will not do something stupid like try to save my life.”

Buck cocked his head to the side and slowly shook it. Because, surely, Eddie had to know the impossibility of which he was asking.

“You can’t,” continued Eddie, watching Buck’s denial as it played out, “because if you do, you’ll die, and I can’t—I’ve never before met a man who scares me like you do, Evan from Buckley Falls of Ghostwood—or should I say, Your Royal Highness, Prince Evan of the Station.”

Buck sucked in a startled breath, his eyes going wide without his permission, and he leaned back from Eddie, reeling from the revelation that Eddie knew his name when only a little while prior Eddie had expressed his wish for Buck to not reveal it.

“You—”

Eddie smiled again. This time it was wicked, reminiscent of the one that would play across Buck’s own lips when he pulled off a fishing job in the middle of a crowded market and nobody was the wiser. Buck knew in that moment, more than he had accepted at any time prior, that Eddie of Diaz Mountains from the Backlands knew exactly who Buck was.

“Give me a little credit, Buck. I knew exactly who you were the moment you broke into my house back in Angelsbury.”

Confusion bubbled up in Buck’s chest.

“How—”

But the question caught in Buck’s throat as he caught sight of the ink stained beneath the crook of Eddie’s elbow, and he knew then exactly what Hen had meant when she had said Eddie had a knack for knowing when people around, even if he wasn’t. Except Hen hadn’t exactly told the whole story back then.

“You’re a Black Heart.”

Eddie inclined his head, as much as he was able to with his head laying back on the feather pillow. The smile never left his lips, becoming wide and wider as Buck figured him out.

“That’s how you knew I was in your house. How you knew who I was. How you—”

Buck stopped. His heart twisted. He swallowed the spit in his mouth and tried to ignore the way his stomach churned at the realization. He drew away from Eddie, sitting on his haunches instead of lording over Eddie. That was how Eddie had known Buck was so attracted to him, why he had kissed him full on the lips back in Angelsbury instead of running him through with his shiny sword.

“You’re a Rotlanser.”

“_Pernua_ no,” said Eddie, insulted like a true subject of the King of the Empire should be whenever so accused. “The Backlands share a border with the Rotlans, so it is true that our cultures aren’t so different, you know. But, I mean, Black Hearts have been working the mines for generations, long before the Rotlansers pushed far enough south.”

Buck nodded, like he understood and maybe on some level he did, but he was still reeling from the idea that Eddie was a Black Heart. Buck had never before met one. Black Hearts had no interest in the dead lands of Ghostwood, and neither did they concern themselves with thieving affairs. He knew all about them, though. People talked, and word spread quicker than a late autumnal fire blazing across the dry, dead trees of the Nowoods that marked the southern border of Ghostwood.

Some said Black Hearts were born of magic, brought to life by _Eiwoas_ himself, but Buck didn’t believe those stories. He much preferred the tale that _Xyzaruna _had bestowed Black Hearts with their powers over knowledge and truth and the secrets of the world. Black Hearts could see anywhere in the world at any moment. They could read the inner most thoughts of everybody around them. They could know exactly what was going to happen moments before it did. All they had to do was want to know bad enough.

It was unsettling knowing that Eddie was one and that he could be reading Buck’s mind this very moment and that he could have been keeping track of Buck’s every movement since the moment Buck skipped out on him in Angelsbury. Buck didn’t know what to think. He felt used, and the idea entered his mind that Eddie may have just been feeding off Buck’s desires rather into his own.

“You look troubled,” said Eddie, and he sat up as well, folding his legs then folding his hands in his lap, though making no attempt to cover up his soft cock. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Buck snorted.

“Can’t you figure that out for yourself.”

Eddie frowned, much like he had when Buck had accused him of being a Rotlanser.

“I make it a habit to not Peer into other’s private thoughts, thank you very much.”

Buck chewed on his bottom lip, unsure of whether he totally believed Eddie. Black Hearts were... They were master manipulators. They knew what the other person was going to say and knew exactly how to hit the hardest and knew everything in between. He wasn’t sure how to tell if Eddie was being honest or if Eddie was just saying what Buck so desperately wanted him to.

“You don’t believe me.”

Buck shook his head, and Eddie nodded, unsurprised.

“I don’t blame you. Hell, I probably wouldn’t believe me, either, but I swear to you, on my mother’s life, that I have never Peered into your mind. I only know who you are, because I traced your introduction back to Hen through the necklace you wore the first time we met.”

“You said your mother was dead.”

Eddie shrugged. The faint traces of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he remained entirely serious.

“I’m not above playing dirty. You were going to steal the Amulet, and I knew you wouldn’t if you thought it was sentimental for me.”

“I didn’t even know what it was,” murmured Buck.

“Most people expect the Amulet to be something special, but it really isn’t. Not by looks, at least.”

“What do you mean you traced my name through Hen? Wouldn’t it have been easier to have read my mind?”

“Hen didn’t tell you?” Eddie asked, in a tone of voice that suggested he was not all that surprised. “That necklace of hers protects her from Black Hearts like me.”

Buck narrowed his eyes.

“Who would give her something like that?”

“Me, of course. It’s not—I didn’t like knowing Hen in that way, and the same with Chim, by the way. I was younger then, and, you know, I didn’t know how to control what I can see.”

Buck wetted his bottom lip, and he didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes followed his tongue as it ran across his lip.

“But you can now?”

“I can now,” said Eddie, “and I know I don’t have a way to prove it, but I haven’t read a single thing off you. I don’t want to, either. You intrigue me like nobody else ever has.”

“Oh?” asked Buck.

He smiled, despite himself, as his mind whirled with everything Eddie had just told him. Eddie was Black Heart, but he didn’t read Buck. Eddie had given Hen and Chim ways to protect themselves against him. Eddie had sat here this entire time, still staring at Buck as if he were precious like gold and didn’t bat an eye even when Buck insulted him.

“Yeah,” said Eddie, and he leaned forward, a smile on his lips and his eyes locked upon Buck’s lips. Buck let him come. “And I would spend the rest of my life showing you exactly how.”

Eddie’s breath ghosted across Buck’s lips, and Buck wanted nothing more than to lean forward and close the distance between them. He longed to taste Eddie upon his tongue once more. Black Heart or no, Eddie was one hell of a lover.

“But I can’t,” said Eddie, and Buck sucked in a breath that hurt him, “because Hen is downstairs right now, looking for you, and she can’t know I’m here.”

Eddie was still right where he was, his lips barely centimeters from Buck’s, and he made no move to get off the bed to slip out the window straight to safety.

“But Hen can help you. The guild can help you.”

“Nobody can help me.”

“You didn’t tell me what it is you do.”

“No, I didn’t,” agreed Eddie.

But he _finally_ pressed his lips against Buck’s.

It tasted so sweet, like a lie Buck so desired to believe was the truth, and Buck knew it was a goodbye, could feel it in the desperation of Eddie’s pull against him as if Eddie, too, knew this was too good to last between them. Maybe it was a perk of being a Black Heart, and maybe Eddie could share his thoughts just like he could steal others, but Buck thought he could hear Eddie cry his name, even with his lips pressed firmly against Buck’s. Or maybe it was merely Buck’s imagination, fueled by the way Eddie held onto him like he never, ever wanted to let him go, but Buck could hear it all the same.

A small part of him—the part that had already accepted Eddie was a Black Heart and that Eddie was every bit as innocent as he claimed he was—wished that Eddie could hear his name spoken like a mantra in Buck’s mind, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Eddie slipped out through the window, catching onto the ledge beneath it and climbing his way down the side of the inn as if that was for what the walls had been built. Buck watched him disappear into the crowd on the streets, until not even the bright orange and red patch stitched into his doublet could be discerned amongst the throng of colors. Then Buck left the room in which they had shared their last passion and tried all the while to not think about how he was certain Eddie would haunt his dreams for weeks, months, maybe even years to come.

Hen was waiting for him downstairs in the tavern. She had a half empty mug of ale on the table before her and another full mug waiting on Buck. She looked no less worse-for-the-wear than she had when she and Buck had parted ways in the marketplace.

Buck took a deep breath to ready himself, pushed all thoughts of how handsome Eddie had looked only half of an hour prior spread out naked in bed, and sat down across from Hen.

“Had a good time, did you?” was Hen’s greeting.

She took a swig of her ale then set it back down on the wooden tabletop. The amber liquid sloshed around inside, dangerously close to the rim. Had it been any fuller, some would have splashed onto the table, not that it would have mattered, given the stickiness of the tabletop anyway.

“’Scuse me?” asked Buck, because, with Hen, it was always better to let her reveal what was on her mind rather than immediately admit guilt.

That was a good philosophy for all thieves, actually.

Hen looked up at him, her eyes intense and the color of the muddy river that ran through the District after a gully washer of spring rain. Buck knew then, even without having to continue the conversation, that Hen knew exactly what Buck had done with his time. She had known before Buck had even sat down.

Not that Buck had any doubts to begin with, truth be told, but he had never been one to give up hope. Besides, according to Chim, Hen hadn’t even realized Karen had been head over heels in love with her until Hen herself was on her deathbed after a mission gone wrong. And if Hen couldn’t see something as monumental as Karen’s love for her, well, it was only understandable to hope that Hen couldn’t see this, either.

“I’ve have a mind to run you through with my sword right now for lying to me, for lying to the guild,” said Hen, voice cold and stern, like the icy winter air blowing in right before the first blizzard of the season. “’Cause you’ve been lying this whole time, haven’t ya? You didn’t tell me the truth about Angelsbury, and you didn’t tell me earlier when you saw Eddie. We coulda finished this all right here and right now, but you decided to run off and have a good tumble in the sheets and waste a perfectly horrible trip to fucking Iy’s Landing.”

Hen was seething, twisting the words around on her tongue until they fell like curses from her lips. She regarded Buck before her through narrowed eyes, like she had never before experienced such betrayal—which was ridiculous. She had survived the Battle of Sionabhan, the final straw that had named her _Iy’s_ Champion.

“You’re damn lucky we ain’t the Undergrounders, you are,” she added, vicious like an attack dog and holding nothing back. Her knuckles were stark, clutched around her tankard of ale, like if not for it, she would have hauled off and punched Buck right here, right now in the middle of the tavern.

Buck didn’t trust that Hen wouldn’t launch the tankard at his head, anyway. He looked up from her knuckles to her face. He swallowed, gathering his courage like he might do before sneaking into the mark’s manor house for the first time in the dead of day, praying to every god his father wanted him to believe in that all the servants and masters were gone to the market.

Hen stared back at him, and in the pit of his stomach, Buck knew he had fucked up. He knew it. He knew it like he knew the way Eddie’s face looked in the ultimate moment of ecstasy, when Oblivion itself merged with the living world.

Buck had to decide now. He had to choose whether he showed loyalty to the guild—to the only family he had left—or whether he turned coat and chased after the ghostly trail of Eddie.

It wasn’t even a decision.

“I thought I could talk some sense into him, if it were me approaching him alone.”

“You dare lie again to me?”

Buck threw up his hands in innocence, in surrender, and held open his gloved palms for Hen to see the emptiness they contained. It was an old, outdated code of the thieves, a sign that the thief had come back from a job empty. If the guildmaster were unhappy, it was an offering up of the thief’s own hand as payment for the job.

Now, Buck didn’t know how many ancient thieves had lost their limbs to pay the price of failure. To him, it seemed counterintuitive. Maiming a thief, especially so deliberately, was bad business for the guild. Losing a limb cost gold. Thieves needed both hands to fish their mark.

So, really, payment of a hand was less about payment to the guild and more about being outcast from the guild, and Buck’s heart beat in his ears. The noise of the tavern faded into nothingness. It was only him and Hen. It was his hands up for bargain.

Hen sighed and looked away.

“Put your damn hands down, Buck,” she said, grumbling. She took a swig of ale. “Always gotta go for the dramatics, don’t you?”

Buck lowered his hands. He chewed his bottom lip and said nothing, cautiously watching Hen before him. She glanced back up at him and shook her head.

She looked, in that moment, older than her thirty or so summers. Buck had always thought of Hen as youthful, despite the war she had fought and despite the fact that Buck knew she had age on him. But there were bags underneath her eyes and lines in the corners of them, and there was a general sense of exhaustion about her that had been nonexistent before they had made this trip back to Iy’s Landing.

Buck wondered, not for the first time, why Chim had even sent—or agreed to send—Hen here in the first place.

“What did Eddie want with you?” asked Hen, finally. Even her voice carried a note of exhaustion. “I mean, other than a tumble in the hay. Geez, Buck. You reek of sex.”

Hen tried for a laugh, and in any other situation—in any other nameless citadel in any other province of the entire fucking empire—she might have succeeded. Here, she didn’t. Maybe it was Iy’s Landing itself. Or, maybe, it was the knowledge that Eddie of Diaz, the man they had trekked into this forsaken land after, had slipped through her fingers.

Buck smiled for the sake of their friendship—and out of guilt for lying to Hen—and decided to come clean. Mostly, it was because Hen had struck nerve earlier. Buck had lied to the guild. _He had betrayed the guild_. That thought alone set all sorts of wrong in the pit of Buck’s stomach. But there was a small part of him that wanted to come clean to Hen, because he knew Eddie’s best chance of surviving laid with the guild.

“Eddie says he has a mark on his head because of what he does, but he, uh, didn’t tell me what exactly that is.”

Hen nodded, like she had expected as much. Buck picked up the tankard of ale Hen had gotten him. He took a long drink of it while Hen stewed in her own thoughts. The ale went down smooth, tasting vaguely nutty, though he longed for the honey mead native to the River District. Maybe he harbored no ill will against Iy’s Landing like Hen did, but he would not be sad to see this place disappear over the horizon.

“Did he say anything else?”

Buck shook his head.

“Just that he knew who I was from the moment I broke into his place back in Angelsbury, but you already know all about that, don’t you?”

Hen chuckled. She took a swig of her ale then set it back down on the table. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, like it was the best drink she had had in ages. Maybe it was. Hen grew up on this stuff.

“I told ya he had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t, didn’t I?”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“You forgot to mention the best part.”

“Ah, well, I figure there are some things about your mark that you’ve gotta learn for yourself.”

“You sent me into the lion’s den.”

Hen shrugged. Then she chuckled again.

“And yet you went back.”

Even Buck had to admit, Hen had him there.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Hen. She drained the last of her ale then stood up from the table to look down at Buck. “Eddie ain’t here no more, and we’ve got no reason to be, either.”

Buck frowned.

“But—”

“Nah,” said Hen, cutting him off before the protest could even fall fully from Buck’s lips.

Her eyes were no longer upon Buck but rather focused somewhere in the back of the tavern. Hen’s face was hard to read at the best of times, but sometime during the last few seconds she had turned to full-on thief mode, and Buck might as well have tried to read the ancient text on the Mirrored Walls.

Buck’s heart leapt to his throat. Ice froze over his body. He resisted the suddenly overwhelming urge to peek over his shoulder to discern exactly what it was that had Hen eager to leave.

“C’mon,” said Hen again, measurably careful, “let’s go.”

She spun on her heel and stalked toward the door. Buck drank down the last of his ale in three large gulps and hurried to follow her. He swallowed against a belch as he went. At the door, he finally mustered up enough courage to take a gander at the back of the tavern. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Hidden away in the corner, seated at a round table with a single candlestick burning low to the wax, was a shadowy figure. Buck couldn’t see the face, concealed as it was by a low, black leather hood, but he could see the design on the figure’s breastplate as clear as if he were standing in the brightest light of the sun.

It was a swirl of red and orange shaped into a flame—the very same swirl of colors that haunted Buck’s deepest fantasies—and Buck knew right then exactly what it was Eddie did and why it was that it was going to get him killed.

“He’s a fucking Undergrounder.”

Hen merely looked over at Buck with a blank expression, as if she could scarcely believe how slow Buck could be sometimes. They had made haste out of Iy’s Landing and were cutting a jagged path over the hills toward Mniagate at a much quicker pace than they had adopted on the way here. The horses had their rest in the citadel, so they were fresh for the running.

“Well, he is, isn’t he?”

“What? You mean to tell me you didn’t figure that out before you slept with him the first time? Do you really just have that low of standards?” Hen laughed. “I mean, c’mon, Buck, you’ve slept with him twice, at least, and you didn’t notice?”

“Hen,” said Buck, as a blush darkened his cheeks.

This was so not what he had had in mind when he had blurted out his thoughts. He should have known better. Buck’s trysts with Eddie were the best teasing material Hen had on Buck in ages.

“I am being serious!” she insisted. She took a long, stuttering breath as she reined in her laughter. Her face grew more serious, as did her voice. “But last I knew, Eddie didn’t exactly hide his attachment to the Undergrounders. He’s never been ashamed of anything, really, and, you know, thieves don’t tend to change their ways—not even those who’ve left the guild.”

This close to the border with the Backlands, the hills of the Pass may as well have been small mountains. They couldn’t run the horses forever, so Hen pulled back on her reins, and Buck followed suit a second later. They continued on at a steady pace, though Buck would have loved to have kept going at break-neck speed all the way back to the River District. He knew that Hen would have agreed with him. They both knew it was hardly a coincidence there had been an Undergrounder in the very same tavern in which Eddie had lain low.

“I didn’t—I’ve never ran across an Undergrounder who didn’t look like one or talk like one or, hell, try to kill me like one.”

But, even as Buck said this, he remembered the sharp press of the point of Eddie’s sword in the middle of Buck’s back in that dark and damp basement. It was sobering, thinking about how close he had been to death at the hands of an Undergrounder. Buck had long since accepted that Eddie could have, theoretically, killed him for breaking into his place and stealing the trinkets. But the fact that Eddie was an Undergrounder…

“He could have killed me.”

“He fucked you instead. I don’t see why this is so surprising to you. I mean, you’ve had more contact with Eddie in the past week than I’ve had with him in the past three years.”

“It’s just—I didn’t—”

“Undergrounders aren’t meant to be humans, are they?” asked Hen, softly, like she knew exactly what Buck’s confusion was, because she, herself, thought the exact same thing. “They aren’t meant to have a son or dreams or, hell, even sex. They’re supposed to be ruthless killers, hell bent on putting off their own demise for as long as possible, right?”

Buck sighed. He knew what Hen meant, but it was hard to connect things in his brain. He knew the rumors that permeated the empire about how ruthless and deadly and merciless the Undergrounders were, how they were somehow less than human and more than at the same time. He also knew the official talk, how there was a legion of knights dedicated solely to tracking down every last Undergrounder and dragging them kicking and screaming to the King’s court—or to kill them on the spot if they resisted.

It was difficult to think of the faceless Undergrounders, those who bred fear like they dispensed death across the Empire, in the same thought as Eddie. 

“Why do the Undergrounders want Eddie killed? I mean, aren’t they supposed to look after their own?”

“That’s the eternal question, isn’t it?”

But, other than that, Hen had nothing to say. Maybe she didn’t know the answer. Or maybe she did, and she didn’t like the answer. Buck didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

So they rode on in silence for a while as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, until one league turned into two and finally three, and they were nearing the border with Mniagate and the flatlands rich with farms. Still, the hills clung on, well past the border, as the darkness began to descend in the day. They would need to find shelter soon or a place to make camp by the road.

Buck couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“They’re after the Amulet, aren’t they?”

Hen hummed in her throat. It was neither a yes nor a no. She glanced over at Buck, but her gaze stayed only for a fraction of a second before she looked back at the old, beaten-down, dirt path before them.

“You’re really hitting the mark today, aren’t you? Figuring out Eddie was an Undergrounder and the Undergrounders are after the Amulet. Next you’ll be talking all about how you’re technically the son of the King, so, technically, you are in line to the throne of the Empire—whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

“You’re less of an ass in the River District.”

Hen laughed. The farther they got away from Iy’s Landing, the more chipper she had become. The exhaustion that had permeated her entire being, though, had yet to dissipate. Maybe that had nothing to do with the ghosts of her past but rather everything to do with Eddie of Diaz and the Undergrounders chasing after him.

“D’you know what the Amulet does by chance?” asked Hen, serious despite the laughter still lingering in her voice.

“It protects the wearer from death.”

“Technically, _Xyzaruna_ herself does that, but, yes. The amulet prevents the wearer from dying—as long as they are wearing it.”

“And the Undergrounders want the Amulet. They’re willing to kill Eddie to get it.”

Hen hummed in agreement. They rode on, silent, for a quarter of a league more. Buck thought Hen had more to say. Hen kept glancing over at Buck as if she did but always thinking twice before she actually spoke.

“Eddie has had a bounty on his head since he was born,” said Hen, finally.

She kept her gaze on the rolling hills before them as they began to relent, like if she were to look away, they would go on forever. Twilight began to sneak up on them with the promise of a full moon on the horizon.

“Everybody knew—I mean, those in Diaz, they’ve always been closest to _Xyzaruna_. You know the old stories, about how _Xyzaruna _herself was said to have been born in the riches of the mines and then tossed out into the cold. Well, up there, in the Backlands, people like to say that _Xyzaruna_ ended up in the Diaz Mountains when she was kicked out of the mines. That’s how Eddie’s family ended up as her protector, they took her in and nursed her to health, and she bestowed upon them a gift: her amulet.”

“And it was passed down from generation to generation through the eldest born child.”

Hen glanced over at him, grinning mischievously. In the dying sun, the angles of her face were sharper than usual.

“So you do listen to me,” she said, still grinning for barely a second longer. Then it faded from her lips, and she looked away, her gaze returning to the hills before them. “When Eddie left the guild all those years ago, it was because he was drawing too much attention, carrying around the Amulet as he was.”

“But I thought you said that Eddie left because he was looking for something, and the River District didn’t have it?”

“Well, that, too, but you understand how important it is that we, the guild, don’t draw attention to ourselves, right? We do our work in the shadows, under the protection of _Eiwoas_, and _Eiwoas_ wasn’t about to offer protection to one chosen by _Xyzaruna_, not even one of his own, not as long as Eddie carried the Amulet on him.”

Buck didn’t have to ask why. He was the son of his father, after all, and his father loved the stories of the gods. He made sure Buck knew them, too, but the story of _Xyzaruna _and _Eiwoas_ was perhaps the one the people of the Empire loved to tell best. It was epic, the kind of tale that was told over a campfire or a tankard of mead, half drunk off life. It was the tale of two best friends, torn apart by a shared love: _Zanlyos_, the god of dreams and sleep.

Long ago, before the age of men, when the gods roamed the Earth themselves, _Gothawens_, the leader of the gods, offered up her only son for marriage, won through a series of contests to prove who was the best amongst the gods. They all participated, competing to see who was the most powerful, who was the strongest, who was the fastest, and so on and so forth until, one-by-one, the gods fell and left only _Eiwoas_ and _Xyzaruna _to compete for the ultimate prize, and _Xyzaruna_—with her promise of immortality long beyond the age of the gods—walked away as champion.

“He drew too much attention. He couldn’t keep—I mean, you think it’s bad enough now that the royal court relocated to the Old Palace, but to have the one chosen by _Xyzaruna_ in our midst…”

Hen trailed off, whistling through her teeth and shaking her head, and she didn’t need to finish her sentence, because Buck knew, perhaps better than any of the thieves, exactly how far the presence of the royal family reached, even downward into the sewers.

“Is that how the Undergrounders first learned of Eddie?”

Hen hesitated. It was almost imperceptible, except that Buck hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time since they began this conversation. She quickly shook her head. She frowned, and she looked older in that moment, like the question had aged her right before Buck’s very eyes.

“That was my doing, actually. Word got around in the war that death couldn’t touch me, and some old soldiers tracked me down to the River District and found out who Eddie was.”

Hen laughed again, but it sounded haunted, like the ghost of what it was meant to be. It made Buck’s stomach churn.

“Eva—she’s leading the Undergrounders, last I heard—she was amongst those old soldiers. She was—well, I remembered her from the battlefield quite well. You can’t forget someone running you through with a sword, after all, not straight through the heart when they’re close enough you can see the whites of their eyes.”

Buck pulled on the reins of his horse and caused it to stop dead in its tracks. He stared, in horror, at the back of Hen’s retreating head. He almost couldn’t process the idea. Hen dead. Buck’s second—third?—shot at life had began because of Hen, and it was terrifying to think of where he might be right now if Hen hadn’t been protected by _Xyzaruna_. He might… He might be back on that gods-forsaken tundra of his childhood, too poor to even live but nowhere else to turn when everything else got ripped right out from underneath his feet.

“Magic of the Amulet that I didn’t bleed out right then and there,” added Hen, still walking on as if she had no idea that Buck was no longer keeping pace. “But, uh, the damage was still done. The Rotlansers knew of the Amulet. And when the war was over… I’d wager Eva didn’t care much for retreating with her tail tucked between her legs. Always had a problem not knowing what was good for her. She found herself mixed up in the Undergrounders instead, promising them exactly what they wanted: their ticket to avoid death—to avoid _Xyzaruna _forever.”

Hen stopped her horse as well, but she did not turn around to face Buck.

“She tracked me down in the River District. I guess you don’t forget someone who refuses to die with your sword stuck straight through their heart, either. And she found me, and when she did, she found Eddie, and… that was the beginning of the end.”

“Eddie joined them?”

“Eva made it sound real good, living forever, forsaking _Xyzaruna_. Poor sod was too—Eddie was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If he refused, the Undergrounders would hunt down his—they would hunt down the Guild and everyone he cared about until everybody was dead. If he went, he left me and Chim, and he’d never be able to see his family again or else the Undergrounders would kill all of them, too.”

“Then why wait until now to track him down?” asked Buck, and he didn’t specify whether he was talking about the thieves or the Undergrounders. He wasn’t sure which he was asking about, really. All that he knew was that he needed an answer.

Hen shrugged.

“Dunno. We picked up chatter a few weeks back that there was a Black Heart on the run from the Undergrounders. Found out it was Eddie through some digging. I guess, Eva never figured out that the one chosen by _Xyzaruna_ was also, by a sick chance of events, begrudgingly blessed by _Eiwoas_, too—not until recently, at least, when Eddie went on the run.”

Hen turned to face Buck, her river-colored eyes wide and her face as pale as the night sky on a full moon’s night in late winter. It was the type of expression that Buck had only witnessed on Hen once before, back last harvest when they were knee-deep in the middle of the King’s Palace surrounded by guards with their pockets full of pilfered gold and jewels and the only escape straight down into the depths of the ocean through the tallest most window on the western side. It had been a jump or die—or get caught—situation.

Buck imagined this wasn’t much different.

“We have to find him. Or we have to stop Eva. Because if we don’t. If we don’t—Eddie is dead.”

And, like the harbinger of death was flying toward them, that was when the first knife cut through the air.


	6. Chapter 6

Buck saw the glint of the steel of the knife and had half of a second to react. He dove for Hen. They crashed painfully to the ground. The knife embedded itself into the dirt not two feet from where they landed.

Hen jumped back up in the next second, withdrawing her sword in one swift action. Buck clumsily got to his feet and stood back-to-back with Hen. He drew out his own daggers. His hands were sweaty around the handles. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He whipped his head all around him, searching for the origin of the knife.

For a long moment, the world was still.

“Show yourself, you coward!” cried Hen.

Buck felt the force of _Iycorr _behind her voice. It was far from his first brush with the Champion of _Iycorr_ in action, but it sent chills down the length of his spine every single time.

A second knife flew through the air, straight at Hen, but Hen blocked it with the broad side of her sword. It clattered to the ground. Buck glanced back at it. The blood rushed from his face. Horror churned in his stomach at the sight. Etched right into the pommel was the terrifyingly familiar swirl of flame.

The Undergrounders had tailed them from the Pass—and by the looks of the shadowy figures appearing from nothing, they were surrounded.

Buck counted at least six, but he knew there were more that he couldn’t see, right in front of Hen. He held tight to his daggers, though they felt small and useless in his hands. The Undergrounders were far more armed than he.

He had faced terrible odds before. Some were even worse than this one, like the time, shortly after the royal wedding, Buck had convinced Hen to sneak into the King’s Palace and steal the First Queen’s precious jewelry. They had been surrounded by the King’s Guard, the most elite knights of the entire Empire, with nothing more than the pitiful weapons they had now. They was no way out, only surrender, and Buck refused to let the new queen waltz in like there had been no one before her. He had led Hen down well-practiced corridors, running at breakneck speed, until they had reached the end.

He highly doubted there would be a convenient trap door to escape through this time.

“Henrietta, it has been a while,” said the closest of the Undergrounders. The voice was female. She stood at Hen’s height and was thin and sinewy. At her sides hung a pair of matching sheaths for daggers. One was empty.

Buck felt Hen stiffen at his back.

“It hasn’t been long enough, you mean,” said Hen.

The tension was thick in the air, so thick that Buck thought he might drown in it when he breathed it in. Hen was as rigid as board at his back. He wondered if she had yet come up with an escape plan. He certainly hadn’t. Short of hoping one of the Undergrounders was Eddie, Buck didn’t see a way out of this.

“Who is that, Hen?” asked Buck, unassumingly, but made no effort to keep his voice quiet. He didn’t need to give the Undergrounders any reason to think they were planning to attack. He may have been fishing for time to plan their attack or, rather, escape, but he was curious as to why the Undergrounder was so intimate with Hen.

“Eva,” answered Hen.

By the way her voice boomed in the space between them and the Undergrounders, it was full of history, the long and drawn out kind, the kind that nearly ate a person up and swallowed them whole.

Yet the name meant little to nothing to Buck beyond Hen’s earlier story of her. The perks of spending his impressionable teenage years in the King’s Palace included never running into people like Eva. The Undergrounders were hardly a concern of the Royal Guard, after all.

“All those years, Henrietta, and that is how you introduce me to the son of the King.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. He had left his hood back in that inn room, and he cursed at himself. He wasn’t the most recognizable of the Royal family, especially not to the subjects who lived their entire lives in the fields of Mniagate, but everyone knew the story of the King’s bleeding heart and how he named starving orphans as his heirs when his own blood had been cursed to die. People like the Undergrounders—people who traded in secrets and knowledge like they were more precious than gold—they never forgot a face.

“What more is there?” demanded Hen.

Buck would put good coin on her wearing a shit-eating smirk right now. He would almost chance a dagger straight through the heart to check for himself. He didn’t move.

“People like you, you’re just bad memories eager to get lost when the times get tough.”

“And there’s none more resilient than you, ain’t that right?” sneered Eva. The edge of her hood tipped back, revealing a pair of thin, beady eyes. They were the kind of eyes one saw in the terrors of night. They were the kind of eyes that seen death and lived to tell the tale. “The famous Champion. The company like you keep, I’m surprised you haven’t popped up in the Pass sooner than you did.”

“You think you know everything, Eva,” said Hen, “but you don’t know nothing.”

In the distance, as Hen and Eva bickered back forth, the lines drawn and everybody’s attention glued to them, Buck could see the outline of a cavalry. They were too far away too see for certain, but Buck got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the type that he hadn’t had to worry about since the moment he leaped down into the Sea with smuggled jewels trapped in the pouches of his armor.

“I know one thing,” said Eva. “We’ve got you surrounded this time.”

And they did, that both Buck and Hen knew with a certainty. Hen stood a little straighter behind Buck. He could feel the tension grasping at her body, and he knew they were gearing up to fight their way out. Two against a dozen Undergrounders, Buck didn’t like their odds, but he did like having the Champion of _Iycorr_ at his back.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” asked Hen, almost lazily.

She leapt into action in the next breath, throwing a pair of daggers out of her left sleeve at the couple of Undergrounders who boxed them in on that side. They struck with deadly precision. The Undergrounders fell hard to the ground like a downed tree.

What followed was a flurry of clashing and clangs. Buck kept his back to Hen, and together, they fended off the worst of the charging Undergrounders. Buck’s daggers held off sharp swords, and he twisted around what he could to get out of the faceless-Undergrounders’ reach. He followed each step through with a hard jab straight into the weak point in the mail of their armor—undressing Eddie as he had made him very familiar with how they were made—he pulled his daggers back bloody every single time.

Still, as hard as he fought, he was no trained knight. He learned most of his moves in bar fights and close scrapes while getting away from badly-gone-jobs. A sharp blade cut like fire across his ribs, slicing clean through his leather armor into the meat of his skin. He cried out as he pushed the blade away with his dagger. He swung his leg around, taking his attacker to the ground, and abandoned his post at Hen’s back to stab his dagger into the soft of his attacker’s throat.

His attacker rolled out of the way at the last possible second, leaving a long stripe of mud across the blue of his tunic. Buck lost his balance, nearly falling to the ground. He was caught by a pair of rough hands. The cold steel of a blade pressed against his own throat.

He froze.

“I’ll kill him,” said the rough voice of the Undergrounder who held him.

It was a man, that much Buck could tell by the feel of the body against his back. He smelled foul, like he hadn’t had a good washing in a good long while. It was nearly suffocating. Buck breathed in through his mouth to keep himself from gagging.

“Drop your weapon,” commanded the Undergrounder of Hen.

She dropped her sword without a fight. It clattered to the ground. Another Undergrounder hurried to pick it up and turn it on her.

Buck cursed himself. He wanted to tell Hen to forget him and run—that he wouldn’t blame her for saving her own skin—but he knew it would be a waste of breath. Hen never left anyone behind, and now, Buck was going to get her killed.

“You won’t kill him,” she said. She hadn’t dropped her defensive stance, and even without a weapon, she looked like a formidable foe. “He’s the son of the king. You’ll carry bounties you’ll never be able to outrun for the rest of your days.”

The Undergrounder at Buck’s back grunted.

“Maybe we’ll kidnap him instead. Leverage him against the king. See what we can get for him.”

Buck couldn’t keep the laugh from escaping him, even as the blade dug into his throat to draw a drop of shiny red blood. It trickled down his neck.

“A whole lotta nothin’,” he said.

The Undergrounder tightened his grip around Buck’s chest, almost painfully so. Still, Buck felt uneasy tension begin to spread across the Undergrounder’s body. Eva blinked at him warily across the battlefield they had created.

“I mean, haven’t you heard?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, haven’t you?” demanded the Undergrounder.

He adjusted his hold on Buck, like he were seriously debating shutting Buck up forever with an easy flick of his wrist, but Eva stopped him before he could. She eyed him with unabashed curiosity.

“Let your _prince_ speak.”

“The king’s got a new pair of heirs, don’t he?” said Buck.

He shrugged as much as he could in the Undergrounder’s hold, eager as he was to pretend like he had no worries whatsoever of the blade at his throat. The truth was he hadn’t felt this close to death since the time he and Chim were clearing out the estate belonging to the corrupt regent of Peniryle. The guards there were a damn good shot, but both Buck and Chim had lived to tell the tale.

Buck could only hope—and maybe pray to _Eiwoas_—that he and Hen lived to tell this tale, too.

His side was bleeding freely, and Hen had a few good injuries herself. The Undergrounders had not yet drawn out their fabled ultimate weapon, _Xyzaruna’s_ Bane, so Buck figured they still had half of a chance to pull off the impossible and escape with their lives. He would keep talking forever if it improved their chances.

“Interesting,” said Eva, like she didn’t believe a word Buck said, even though he had seldom been so honest about his status amongst the thieves’ business. “That is not quite the rumor floating from the palace.”

“Well, that’s just a rumor, ain’t it?”

“Word is there that the King himself is offering a pretty reward for your safe return.”

Buck snorted. The Undergrounder adjusted his hold on the sword he held at Buck’s neck, like he were considering, despite Eva’s orders otherwise, slitting Buck’s throat right then and there and be done with all of this. Buck’s heart pounded in his ears, but he willed himself to stay as relaxed as possible.

“I dunno who you get your intel from, but maybe you should consider offing them for doing such a shitty job. I mean, that’s your trade, right?”

Eva’s lip twitched like, if this were any other situation, she might laugh at him.

“You talk a big talk for a prince at the edge of my sword,” said the Undergrounder, loud and harsh in Buck’s ear.

By the way he held the blade, he meant it, too, but Eva silenced him with a sharp shake of her head.

“You’re good with a blade, _prince_. Ever consider joining a cause worthy of your... talents?”

Eva nodded to the trio of Undergrounders who had met their fates at the end of Buck’s daggers. Buck didn’t spare them another glance, even as he inwardly recoiled at their dead bodies. He didn’t enjoy killing. It was why he would never make a good knight. But, in this life, he knew there were times when it was him or someone else, and he would protect himself every single time.

“I already have,” said Buck.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “We could make you great.”

“I’m not interested in glory.”

“Then what are you interested it?”

“Eva, don’t. It’s me you’re interested in, not him,” said Hen.

But Eva shook her head. Her eyes never left Buck.

“Name your price, _prince_.”

“I’m not a killer.”

“My dead men say otherwise.”

Buck couldn’t stop his wince.

“I won’t join you. I have no interest in living forever.”

“Yet you have an interest in the Master of Death.”

The bottom dropped out of Buck’s stomach. The blood drained from his face. He met Hen’s eyes and saw reflected in them the same horror Buck felt building in his chest. This was, after all, why the Undergrounders had followed them from the Pass.

“Eddie of Diaz has been like a ghost over the past few months, yet somehow you, _prince_, have tracked him down twice. Why, if it wasn’t for you, I would have believed Eddie to be dead.”

Buck said nothing. With his unadulterated reaction, he had already confirmed he knew exactly who she were talking about. He thought about the bounty on Eddie’s head and about the way Eddie had looked when he had made Buck promise to not save his life. He hadn’t been about to assure Eddie of that promise then, and he wasn’t going to now, either—even if it meant he and Hen tasted the wrong end of a blade.

“So name your price to me now. What will it take for you to hand deliver Eddie of Diaz to us?”

Buck huffed.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” hedged Eva, but she shrugged it off like it was not the insult Buck had intended it to be. “But I’m still willing to meet your price.”

“There isn’t a price,” said Buck. “I don’t know where Eddie is, and I wouldn’t give him to you if I did.”

Eva shifted her gaze to the Undergrounder at Buck’s back who still held the sword steady at Buck’s throat. When she looked back at Buck, the twisted ghost of a smile grazed her lips.

“If you won’t name a price, I will,” she said. Then she addressed the Undergrounders as a whole. “Start with his fingers, and if that doesn’t convince him, takes his hands. Thieves are nothing without their hands—and I imagine princes won’t be worth much, either.”

Buck jerked back in the hold the Undergrounder had on him, but it was too tight to break free from. The blade sliced jaggedly across his skin, drawing more blood, but Buck ignored the stinging pain as he fought to get free.

“Bind Henrietta,” added Eva.“Force her to watch, and then we’ll take her with us.”

Buck struggled harder. He wasn’t going to be killed, especially not in front of Hen. The Undergrounder began to lose his grip.

“Stay still,” demanded the Undergrounder. It came out more of a grunt. “Or I’ll kill ya right now.”

But Buck knew the Undergrounder wouldn’t. He had yet to disobey Eva’s command, and they needed Buck to talk if they hoped to get any information on Eddie—not that Buck had any. He didn’t know any more about Eddie of Diaz than anyone else here did. He might have even known less. He wasn’t even sure why it was such a big deal that he had found Eddie to begin with. He certainly hadn’t intended to run into Eddie whilst trying to steal the Statue of _Zanlyos_ back in Angelsbury. A good thief didn’t mean to get caught. 

“Go ahead,” he taunted, as he fought against the half of a dozen hands grabbing at him. “I’ve got nothing to tell you.”

Eva smiled.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “You have already told me so much.”

Buck managed to hook his foot around the knee of the Undergrounder who held him, and he pulled hard. The Undergrounder fell, losing his grip on Buck. He grunted and rolled then jumped up, wielding curses as sharp as his sword.

A barrage of arrows flew through the air, raining down around Buck and striking the Undergrounders with deadly accuracy. He glanced over his shoulder at the cavalry advancing on them and spotted the familiar royal purple crest. His heart sank in his chest. He recognized the men. He met Hen’s gaze through the bustle of downed Undergrounders and the lone trio who were scrambling away, Eva and the Undergounder who had restrained him amongst them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, sighing.

His side was still bleeding, and his neck was, too, and yet, if given the choice as the cavalry thundered closer and closer, he would have almost rather have fought the Undergrounders to his death.


	7. Chapter 7

In the wake of the Undergrounders’ escape, the King’s Guard came to a stop before Buck. A pair of them immediately leapt off their horses to check the downed Undergrounders left behind.

Buck didn’t miss the way they side-eyed Hen, standing covered in blood. Her sword laid at her feet, where the Undergrounder had dropped it when the King’s Guards’ barrage of arrows started raining down. Buck strolled over to stand next to her, a sign that she stood with him. Hardly anyone recognized the Champion of _Iycorr_ at first sight, unless she was in combat.

But the King’s Guard were much more concerned with Buck than with determining who Hen was. The remaining guards jumped down from their horses and bowed deeply to their prince. Hen might as well have been invisible to them.

“You are a hard man to track, your highness,” said the captain of the guard, Thomas, straightening to speak to Buck.

A few years older than Buck, Thomas had risen through the ranks over the years that Buck had known him. He was tall and broad with dark hair that was currently concealed by the shiny knight’s helmet he wore. It was typical of the royal guard’s armor. Through the visor, Thomas looked Buck over, pausing at Buck’s neck and his side as the blood trickled slowly downward. 

It worried Buck why Thomas, out of all of the King’s Guard, was leading this squad this far outside of the River District, but he swallowed back his apprehension.

“Intentionally,” answered Buck, shortly.

If Thomas were any more of a seasoned guard, Buck’s quip wouldn’t have garnered the slightest of a response. As it were, Thomas had risen to the esteemed rank much quicker than those before him had. He wasn’t as used to playing unperturbed when it came to sassy princes, so, despite the seriousness of the nature of his station, he laughed.

“I have specific orders to drag you back to the Station, kicking and screaming if necessary.”

Buck bit down hard on his tongue. He had always assumed those would be something of his father’s orders. He considered his options. If he chose to fight, it would be him and Hen against half of a dozen of his father’s best trained knights, and he didn’t like those odds, not even with the Champion of _Iycorr_ on his side. He wasn’t even sure the injury to his side would let him hold a weapon, let alone use it. Hen and he were heading back to the River District, anyway, which lessened their ability to outrun the guards if he and Hen made a break for it. There were a lot of leagues still stretched out between them and the River District.

The truth was, then, that there was only one option. Buck had learned many things from his father over the years, and one of those was to accept when he was outmaneuvered—if only to wait for the right chance to strike back.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Buck. He threw his hands up in surrender. He ignored the way his muscles ached with the movement, and he bit back a cry of pain when it made the wound in his side pull apart and gush with blood. “We’ll come willingly.”

“We have no orders to transport a subject.”

“You do when that subject is the Champion of _Iycorr_.”

Thomas’s gaze flitted to Hen, unbelievingly, then back to Buck. Indecision shined in Thomas’s eyes. Buck stared impassively back. He was their prince. They would obey his wish. If they wanted him to go easily back to the River District, they weren’t going to take him alone. He was not going to force Hen to travel the many, lonely leagues back home.

“The Champion of _Iycorr_?” repeated Thomas, doubtfully.

Hen stood tall and proud, despite the King’s Guard surrounding them. Blood ran down a crooked, drying path from a cut on her forehead. One of the Undergrounders had gotten in a lucky strike. Buck viciously hoped it was one who had met their end at Hen’s sword of the King’s Guards’ arrows.

“Well, all right then,” said Thomas, after a moment, like he had any choice in the matter at all. “We will get the pair of you patched up and head back”

Buck wasn’t sure whether Thomas really believed him after all or if he did the math and figured it was easier to agree to transport Hen than listen to all of Buck’s reasons—demands—of why they had to. It didn’t make much difference. Buck was still the prince, after all. His word had to be obeyed.

A pair of guards made quick work of tending to Buck and Hen. One carefully sewed the long cut across the left side of Buck’s ribcage together with moonthread, a type of suture thread blessed by the priests of _Enone_ and imbued with qualities that hastened the healing process. When Buck’s injury healed, the moonthread would disappear on its own and leave behind the last of its healing properties.

By the time the guards were finished with Buck, he felt like he wore more bandages than he did clothing. But the elixirs the guards fed him made him feel real good and took away the pain. The elixirs also sped up the healing process, working in tandem with the moonthread. Buck doubted his wounds would be much more than old scars by the time they arrived back to the Station, so was the advantage of being treated to the Royal Physician standard.

The King’s Guard had no spare horses, but Buck was no stranger to riding double. He did not want to ride with a guard. It made him feel like a child, and he didn’t want to remember that fateful horseback ride across the frozen tundra all those years ago when he was half-starved and leaving behind everything he had ever known.

Buck asked for his own horse. If he had to ride double, he would rather have Hen at his back. One of the guards, Sal, was reluctant to let Buck and Hen share together. It was a breach of protocol, but Buck didn’t give a damn, and Thomas was too eager to get Buck back to the River District without fuss to do anything other than order Sal to stand down.

So there he was, atop a royal white stallion with Hen at his back, heading back to the River District. He tried not to think about what awaited him there, about how long it would be before he got to sleep in his bed in the sewers, or about what it was they were running away from. He tried not to think at all, and he succeeded to a point, because all he could think of was how handsome Eddie had looked hours ago silhouetted against the window, shining in the sun.

The Old Palace was, as its name implied, ancient. It was the original home of the royal family in the earliest days of the Empire, when their borders reached hardly beyond the River Province. Because of this, people still sometimes called the River Province the Ancient Province.

The palace itself was built with old, weathered stones that looked like they had been dredged up from the riverbed itself eons ago. The blue-gray stones matched the low, hunkered down houses of the Station, but there was no mistaking the prominence of the palace. It was surrounded by fortified stone walls and regularly patrolled by the Royal Guard, and the Royal Flags flew high.

Teenaged Buck had been in awe of this place the first time the Royal family vacationed here. It was night-and-day different from expansive the King’s Palace up in Mniagate, where the King had held court until the First Queen’s death. Here, the history of the royal family seeped into the ancient stones of the palace. It spoke of power and prestige in the calm tones of the Ancient. The palace was sprawling in an effort to spread out the weight across the water-soaked ground along the bank of the Great River.

At the gates, Buck urged Hen to get off the horse.

“She goes home from here,” said Buck, loudly to the King’s Guard in the tone of voice he had practiced after his father. “Her family awaits her.”

Thomas nodded, though he had no say in the matter. Hen had proven, over the countless leagues from Mniagate, to be an upstanding subject. Buck was almost certain the King’s Guard had accepted, by now, that she was, indeed, the Champion of _Iycorr_. They had seen some of the fight against the Undergrounders from a distance, and it had been a well-trod conversation on the way back to the River District until they all decided that Hen was blessed by the warrior god.

Hen offered her hand to Buck, a farewell gesture. Buck tried to offer her a smile, to show her that he would be fine from here on alone. Hen frowned back at him. She knew him better—knew his sordid history better—than that to be fooled.

Still, she let go of him and walked away, down the long, narrow path to her home. Buck imagined it wouldn’t be long until she headed down to the sewers to debrief Chim. Once the guards stopped loitering around the city square, it was fair game.

At the stables, just inside of the gates, they left their horses. The second Buck’s boots hit the ground, the guards surrounded him. Buck couldn’t decide if they were more concerned he would run or that someone would try to take him out. Either were ridiculous fears. If Buck’s plan had been to run this whole time, he would have done it leagues ago in the cross over from Mniagate where the River made a crossing difficult. And Buck had been kept out of the public’s eye for so long, he doubted they even remembered what their prince looked like.

Buck was marched straight to the Old Palace. The guards crowded around him, pressing against him, and if not for the royal decorum, he was certain they would have been skin-to-skin. He bit down hard on his tongue as he reminded himself all he had to do was suffer through one conversation with his father and then he could escape back to his life and his father could go back to his new one.

Everyone would be happy.

Buck and the guards passed unheeded through the Gatehouse, as those stationed to keep watch there recognized their prince for who he was. They were surely acutely aware of the King’s orders to bring Buck back to the Station. Buck kept his gaze trained in front of him. He didn’t care to see the pity in the faces of those sworn to protect him. He knew his position was no longer what it once was. He didn’t need them bestowing him with unnecessary sympathy.

The stone road twisted through the courtyard straight to the grand entrance. There, Thomas spoke with the guards on duty, who stood at attention and offered succinct responses to whatever question Thomas asked of them. Buck hardly paid attention to the conversation. He felt like he were someone else, watching everything happen through his eyes with no control over anything. What would happen would happen, but at the end of it, however near or far, Buck would be face-to-face with his father for the first time in over a year.

The watch guards side-eyed Buck as they opened the door for him to enter. Thomas ushered Buck inside into the Entrance Hall, but the rest of the royal guards remained in place. The door shut behind them, echoing in the large hall. Thomas urged Buck forward.

Out of habit, Buck catalogued all of the exits. There were many: the door he had entered through, the three at the opposite end that led to other halls or chambers, and the servant entrance hidden behind a large purple drape. Hardly anybody outside of the castle staff or residence knew of that particular entrance, but Buck did. He knew every square inch of this place.

Thomas led Buck left out of the Entrance Hall, which did not settle too well in Buck’s stomach. It was the quickest way to the kitchens, but it was also the straightest shot to the royal quarters. Buck highly doubted Thomas was going to take him for a late-night snack.

Buck followed Thomas down familiar corridors, turning before Thomas thought to and occasionally purposefully choosing a route that would take twice as long as the other option. He knew what awaited him, and—he could admit this to himself—nothing, not even the Undergrounder with his sword pressed into his neck, scared him more in the past twenty-four hours than the idea of facing his father. He would rather have taken his chances with Eva and her goons.

Despite his best efforts, Buck couldn’t put off the inevitable. There were only so many corridors in the palace, especially so in this part, and, all too soon, he and Thomas came to a stop in front of the Royal Apartments. A pair of watch guards stood at attention here, too. As well trained as they were, neither succeeded at concealing the surprised expressions upon their faces at seeing Buck here in the Old Palace on the other side of the king’s door.

“The King is in his study,” said the leftmost guard, a man by the name of Eli. He looked at Buck, briefly, then respectfully dropped his gaze. “His Royal Highness, the King, is awaiting you, Your Royal Highness.”

Buck bit back a groan at the title, his mind propelling a hundred leagues away to another time just the day before last when the title had fallen so beautifully from Eddie’s lips. His heart leapt in his chest. The title didn’t sound nearly as nice when Eli said it. He doubted it ever would from someone else again.

The watch guards parted, like all those before them, to open the doors to the Royal Apartments. Buck stepped through without thinking too hard about it. He didn’t want to be here, He didn’t want to see the way the new queen decorated the place and all of the ways it was different than how the First Queen would have. He didn’t want to think about all the ways a part of him had died the day the First Queen did and all of the parts of him that were moldering in the Royal Crypt beneath the King’s Palace.

The King had gotten himself a new queen and so had the Empire, but Buck had not. He never would.

Begrudgingly, Buck took a cursory glance around the room and tried not to see anything beyond the royal purple drapes and the upholstery on the antique furniture that had stood in a state of hazard care until the King had moved his court here, far away from the King’s Palace that had become haunted by the memories of the First Queen. This was not the sofa young Buck had curled upon with his new mother, scared and alone and starving and learning how to not be any of those.

Maybe it helped, the different furniture and the muted woods the First Queen had hardly ever favored in the pristine white marbled castle of the King’s Palace. Buck didn’t know. He tried not to think, tried not to feel. He wanted to do nothing more than to turn on his heel and flee this forsaken place and go back to the Sewers where he could breathe and not feel like everything he had ever known had been ripped from him. Again.

But Thomas stood strong at his side, directing Buck to the ominous door that led to the King’s study, to the left off the Royal Solar. Buck drew in a long, readying breath. He felt like an unruly child walking toward his doom. Before he could think much more about it, he pushed open the door, stepped inside, and let it shut behind him. 

His father sat at his desk, his back to the large, floor-to-ceiling window that gave an awe-inspiring view of the mouth of the river and the Great Sea beyond it. It was framed by a pair of royal purple drapes, tied back with golden ropes. The great window made the study seem larger than it was, but it was nothing more than the king’s private workspace, where not even the highest rank advisor dared to bother him. On either wall to the left and right were shelves full of books handed down through the generations of royalty along with a handful of the King’s favorites. The king’s desk was a beautiful work of walnut wood. Carved into it, along the sides, were façades of the gods, for there were fewer devout people in the land than their king.

Hearing the door click shut, the King looked up from his reports. Buck lingered in front of the door, frozen to the spot. King Robert Nash—his father—looked exactly the same as in his memory but ages older, like the last year or so had been especially hard on him. There was more silver in his hair than Buck remembered, and a few more lines on his face, around his eyes and his mouth.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. An inexplicable flurry of anxiety fluttered across his heart. For the first time since he met his father as his last saving grace from starvation on that gods-forsaken frozen tundra, he realized that maybe what his birth mother had told him time and time again was true: the King was only a man.

“Welcome home, son.”

And it was like a weight lifted from Buck’s shoulder, one that Buck hadn’t even known he had been carrying around all of this time. He thought about the last time he had seen his father—a peek in through the upper windows in the Forbidden Temple—and how he had sworn to himself that he would never, as long as he lived, forgive him for everything he had done.

That anger—that hurt—felt old in this moment. 

In here, if Buck tried hard enough, he could almost pretend like the last two years of their lives had never happened, like the First Queen had never died and the King hadn’t remarried the first woman to come along after that like a desperate, stupid, cold man. In here, nothing had changed. There was no tribute to the new queen. Neither was there a reminder of the First Queen’s passing. In here, it was only Buck staring open-mouthed at his father, the King.

The span of silence between the King’s greeting and Buck’s lack thereof stretched out between them.

“Don’t just stand there like a stranger,” commanded the King.

He stood up from his desk and walked around to the front of it. He kept his gaze on Buck the whole time. He was hard to read.

Buck’s heart lurched in his chest. He should be cursing at his father, throwing every sin back in his face, demanding to know how long after they had laid the First Queen to rest had he waited until he fell into the New Queen’s bed. Buck was still angry, though it simmered in its old state now. He had spent months imagining what he would say if he were to ever see his father again, and here he was right in front of him, speechless.

The silence strung out between them, thick and heavy like that weight Buck had carried around all this time.

“Buck, come on, you have to give me something,” said the King, again.

His eyes were so wide and sincere it was hard to believe they were the very same eyes that had borne fire in them all those months ago when Buck had declined the invitation to meet the then-future New Queen.

Buck’s stomach was all knots. His tongue was glued to the top of his mouth. Even after nurturing his anger and his hurt for all of those months, he had nothing to say to his father.

“I know we left things rather badly last time we spoke,” said the King. “But I was hoping—”

“What? That I would magically be fine with you moving on from Mother? That your gods would strike some sense into me?”

“Watch your tongue, Buck,” snapped the King, like Buck had known he would. “You are angry with me, but do not disrespect our gods.”

“_Our_?” repeated Buck. He balled his hands up into fists, the anger rising in his chest, up his throat, until he couldn’t taste anything but it. Gone was his silence. He was here to scream. To rage. “Where were _our gods_ when my mother was choking on flames? Where were _our gods_ when all of the priests prayed for her healing? Where were _our gods_ when they let her die in that fucking palace?”

“Buck—”

“And did _they_ bless your new marriage? Did _they_ reward you for being so fucking selfless and naming your heirs the orphans you saved from starving to death on that gods-forsaken tundra? Did _they _give you permission to just replace Mother and me with your brand new family?”

“That’s enough!”

The King’s voice echoed in the small chamber. Buck snapped his mouth shut out of surprise more than respect. The King never raised his voice, yet here it was bouncing off the stone walls around them.

For a long, tense moment, silence hung once more between them. Buck huffed to catch his breath after his tirade, anger coursing through his veins. He had a thousand more sins he could list, but his father was staring at him with that familiar fire in his eyes, and Buck knew somewhere, deep down inside of his mind where he pushed all of the things he didn’t want to think about, that he had crossed a line. Maybe even many of them.

“I love your mother,” said the King. His voice was tight, controlled like he wanted to scream it but didn’t dare, like the mention of the First Queen was entirely too precious to insult by a raised voice. “I loved her the day we met, and I will love her until the day I die. Never doubt that.”

Buck swallowed, nodding meekly. He knew it had been unfair to throw the First Queen in his father’s face. He knew how much his father loved his mother. He knew how much it had hurt his father to lose her, how hard his father had cried over her body after the last breath left her lungs.

But it had felt good—however briefly, however viciously—to throw it in his father’s face, because Buck still hurt from the First Queen’s death, and he wanted to see someone else still hurt, too.

“And I still love you, too, Evan.”

Buck bit down on his bottom lip and looked away from his father’s face, refusing to read the sincerity there. He looked instead toward the mouth of the river, where it rushed out to meet the sea. He wondered, in an off-hand thought a thousand of leagues away from this conversation in this moment, whether he should have become a pirate instead of a thief and whether he would have ever found himself back here, face-to-face with his father.

“You are still the prince of the Empire. You are still my son. Nothing and nobody can change that.”

They were almost the exact same words his father had used the last time they had spoke, right before he had flipped Buck’s entire world upside down and informed Buck he had moved on and planned to marry the then-future New Queen—like the sentiment behind the words were nothing more than a get-out-of-jail free card.

Buck was done. This was why he had spent the last year running from his father.

“Yeah,” said Buck, still refusing to give his father the courtesy of looking him in the eyes, “I used to think that, too.”

Then Buck turned and slung the door behind him open and all but ran through it, ignoring the startled cries of the guards and the way his father screamed his name as he left.

Nobody stopped him.

Not the King’s Guards.

Not those at the entrance hall.

Not even those at the Guard House.

And if that didn’t tell Buck exactly what his place was in the royal family, nothing else would, for Buck was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mini Dictionary (cont.)**
> 
> Solar - the private living and sleeping quarters of the royal family in royal residences; _see also_ "royal apartments"
> 
> Royal Apartments - an alternative for a solar in royal residences, particularly in palaces or castles; usually refers to an entire wing or floor of a residence; unlike a solar, most royal apartments include a kitchen used privately by the royal family
> 
> (A small note about the use of specific terminology within this story: This story is heavily inspired by history, namely the middle ages; however, I have made conscious choices in terminology. This means that while historically words like "solar" and "leagues" were used at some point (to refer to almost exactly how this story uses them), this story does not adhere to the timing of the development of language. Therefore, historically, some words may have been considered archaic long before other words were first used, yet, here in this story, the words are used side-by-side. There is a reason I have tagged this as Historical Fantasy instead of Historical AU...)


	8. Chapter 8

When Buck left the palace, he almost made a bee line for the sewers, for the only place left that he had to call home, but he stopped himself just before he did something that stupid. He couldn’t be sure the King hadn’t sent his guards after him anyway, despite how easily Buck had escaped the palace. The last thing he needed to do was bring more trouble to the guild. Chim was unhappy enough with letting the prince into their midst. He wouldn’t likely be any more thrilled about Buck leading the guards straight down into the thieves’ hideout. 

Instead, Buck cut through toward the western gate of the citadel and spent the new few hours wandering aimlessly around the farms that lay beyond. He had good relations with most of the farmers. They weren’t apt to run to the guards about some stranger strolling through their fields. They were even less apt to run to the guards about their prince was strolling through their fields. 

Some liked him because he was the son of the King, but hardly any of them referred to him as that anymore. Most liked him because he always managed to work up a miracle when they were in a bind, like when parts of the river all but dried up in the hot months and there threatened to not be another delivery of stones for weeks or like when the old farmer’s daughter fell ill with a mysterious illness and the family had no coin to fetch a healer. 

Buck liked helping people. He made his living off the backs of the rich, but he did what he could to help anyone in need. He was their prince—at least for now—and they were his people. It was his duty to take care of them all he that could. 

When the sun had finally sank below the horizon and dusk began to set in, Buck headed back toward the citadel. There had been no sign of guards. If the King had wanted to, he could have dragged Buck back to the palace way before now. Buck tried not to dwell upon what that meant about the King’s opinion of him. 

Buck stopped short of the citadel in the small gathering of trees on the outskirts and ducked down into the trapdoor hidden in the hollowed-out, decaying trunk of an old, gnarled oak tree. The tree was a magical anomaly, a testament to Hen’s potioneering ability. She had carefully crafted an ageless tincture of such power never before known, at least in the River District, and sprinkled it over the roots of the dying tree until the soil it stood in was saturated in it. The old, gnarled tree would stand long after the guild was through. With any luck, it would stand for time immemorial—which was exactly what a trapdoor needed in order to remain hidden. 

The trapdoor spit him out in one of the abandoned sewer tunnels. If an outsider were to happen upon this particular entrance, they would likely spend hours, maybe even days, wandering around down here, lost as the day was long. Buck, however, had the advantage of the knowledge of a thief with the guild. He could almost navigate these tunnels blind. 

Fifteen minutes later, after two admitted wrong turns that Buck wanted to convince himself was subconsciously on purpose to deter anybody possibly following him, he emerged into the Crossroads Tunnel. It was named as such, because it connected the underbelly of the Station: the black market of goods, the tavern, and, most importantly, the thieves’ guild headquarters. Buck took a right into the rotunda. 

He spotted Chim and Hen almost immediately, seated around Chim’s ledger and talking low amongst themselves. There were hardly any other thieves in the rotunda. Given the time of day, Buck would guess most of those here in the sewers were probably next door at the tavern swapping stories of successful jobs over tankards of sweet honey mead. His mouth watered at the thought of the mead. No province made their drinks quite like the River. 

Chim looked up when Buck came close enough to overhear his conversation with Hen. There was an unadulterated frown on his lips. Buck felt a lump rise in the back of his throat. He knew why Chim was disappointed in him. He had expected such a welcome, yet he still wanted to turn and tuck tail and avoid this conversation forever. But he couldn’t. He had to face his guildmaster. He had to face his friend. 

“Figured the next time you walked in here, you’d be wearing a crown surrounded by the King’s best guards,” was Chim’s greeting. 

There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but the rigid line of his shoulders belied the seriousness underneath the words. He was weighing how well Buck’s conversation with his father had gone, just like he always did whenever Buck came back from a run-in with the royal family. Chim’s worry was for nothing. 

Buck sat down in the rickety chair next to Hen, like he were returning from any other job and had not begun a habit of lying so thoroughly to his guildmaster. 

“You’re more likely to be wearing a crown than I ever am.” 

Chim studied him for a long moment. Buck tried not to fidget under his gaze, but it was difficult. Buck was never a good liar to those whose opinion mattered. A mark, he could lie to all day to get their coin. Chim wasn’t a mark. He was his boss. More importantly, he was Buck’s friend and one of the very few people who had never failed to have Buck’s back. 

“Ok. Let’s say I believe you,” said Chim, carefully. “I guess that would also mean I would believe you when you assure me yet again that you have never met Eddie of Diaz, is that about right?” 

Buck winced. 

“About that—I should have told you.” 

“Yes, you should have.” 

“But—” 

And Buck stopped, carefully considering his next words. He remembered the heat, the passion, he had shared with Eddie that first time, and he also remembered the pull in his gut when he had considered coming clean to Chim when he got back. Then he thought about the desperation in Eddie’s eyes only days before when he had begged Buck not to save his life. 

“I didn’t.” 

It was a simple admission. It didn’t even cover everything that Buck probably needed to explain to Chim, but he couldn’t manage much more. There were so many conflicting thoughts swirling around in his mind. They all came back to Eddie. Fear gripped at his heart, took up residence there and stuck around. 

“He is in trouble, Chim. I know that doesn’t excuse not telling you, but—he—I’m afraid for him.” 

Chim stared at Buck for a long moment. 

“Answer me one thing.” 

Buck nodded, but it wasn’t really a question. Even if it would have been, his response would have been the same. He was done lying to Chim. 

“When you ran into Eddie up in Angelsbury—” 

“When he slept with him, you mean,” interrupted Hen, with a wicked grin. 

Chim laughed. It sounded eerie against the dry, serious tone he had previously adopted. Buck’s cheeks burned, but he said nothing in his own defense. He deserved a jab or two on the subject of Eddie. That was what friends did, they ribbed each other. If Hen and Chim could joke about Buck sleeping with Eddie, they weren’t too upset with Buck lying to them. They wouldn’t kick him out of the guild or turn their backs on him. 

“Yeah, that,” said Chim and pushed forward in that same serious tone of voice, despite how much fodder there was in that one statement to chase Buck around the rotunda. Maybe under different circumstances, he would have tortured Buck a little more. “How did he get you to lie for him?” 

Buck hesitated. He licked his bottom lip, thinking back to Eddie and everything in between. 

“Other than, of course, fucking you stupid,” amended Chim, with a flash of a grin as he finally took the first of many shots he rightfully owed Buck. 

Hen howled in laughter. She slapped her knee. She was getting entirely too much amusement out of Buck in the hotseat, but it was good to see the carefree, jolly expression grace her after the long, arduous journey to the Pass. Buck didn’t call her on it or try to rein her in. The sound of her laughter echoed in the rotunda. As empty as the room was, she drew no attention from their fellow thieves. 

Buck rolled his eyes at her—even he had to admit he deserved it—as he thought over every second of his trip to Angelsbury. 

“He said...” 

Buck trailed off, racking his brain for the right moment in time. 

“He offered up his dead mother’s jewelry if I swore to tell you he wasn’t there—and he promised not to kill me, which was _apparently _a bigger threat than either of you led me to believe it would be.” 

“Dead mother?” repeated Hen. 

The laughter still clung to the corners of her lips, but her eyes were wide with trepidation. She had spent time in Diaz Mountains with Eddie. She had known his mother. From the best Buck could tell, Eddie’s mother had practically given Hen life like the King had done for Buck. 

“Yeah, he’s a total liar,” said Buck. “Apparently, he was praying on my sympathies.” 

This assurance soothed Hen. She nodded thoughtfully then shrugged, and her grin was back. 

“Sounds like him.” 

Chim, though, ignored Hen. He stared at Buck. There was a glint in his eyes like his mind was a hundred leagues away from the Sewers. His brows were furrowed, which only served, in the dim lighting of the rotunda, to highlight the circular scar in the middle of his forehead from that time he had taken a steel rod through his skull on a job gone bad way back before he was the guildmaster. It had taken all of the magic the Underbelly of the Station swore it didn’t have to save his life. If anyone could work up a miracle, it was Chim. 

“You sure he referred to his mother being dead?” 

Buck nodded. He remembered every moment of that fateful trip to Angelsbury. Truthfully, he didn’t think he would forget a thing when it came to Eddie. It had all been permanently burned into his memory. 

Chim and Hen exchanged a look that made the bottom drop out of Buck’s stomach. They had this way about them of talking without saying a word. Sometimes, they could carry on an entire conversation without speaking at all. Buck envied them. 

“What?” 

He was too impatient for the silence that threatened to stretch between them. If Chim and Hen had something to say, they were going to have to say it out loud. Buck deserved to know what worried them. 

“We need to head up to the Backlands, check things out,” said Chim, slowly. 

“Why?” 

But Chim and Hen exchanged that look again and didn’t answer. Buck bit back a growl of frustration. He was grateful he had gotten that much out of Chim, but, in the long run, it was really nothing at all. Chim and Hen were saying a lot more than Buck could understand. 

“I should go,” said Chim, directly to Hen. “You’ll be too easily recognized up in the Diaz Mountains.” 

Hen opened her mouth to argue. Buck opened his to demand to be let in on the loop of what they weren’t telling him. Chim allowed neither to speak. 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Hen. You handle things here. Buck and me will head up there.” 

“Wanna let me in on what exactly we’ll be looking for?” Buck asked. 

Chim pointedly ignored him, so did Hen. Frustration grew like a wildfire in his chest. It was fueled by fear—the very same fear that had struck him to the core when Eddie had begged him not to save his life. Whatever it was Chim and Hen were refusing to explain, it wasn’t good for Eddie. 

“Be ready to leave at first light. There’s a carriage leaving for Kingsmarsh then. Meet me on it.” 

The dismissal fell firmly from Chim’s lips. He immediately pulled out the ledger and started to talk business with Hen. Buck sighed, full of fiery frustration, but he knew that he would get nothing more out either Chim or Hen. Whatever this was they were going after in Diaz Mountains was serious enough to have them both worried about Eddie, and that meant it was something that Buck should worry about, too, even if he didn’t understand everything. 

So, Buck cut his losses for now. He would have an entire trip upwards across the Empire to bug the truth out of Chim. For now, he had preparations to attend to. 

He sent a longing look at his bed, which stood empty and abandoned across the rotunda. He had been looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed again. He hadn’t enjoyed such luxury since his last tryst with Eddie a few days ago, and the long nights on the road had began to seep into his bones. He wasn’t likely going to get to enjoy much of his bed tonight with everything he had to do before they left. But whatever awaited them in the Backlands—whatever was important enough that Chim demanded they leave with haste—was more important than Buck’s selfish longing for his bed. 

Buck took his dismissal as it was given. He wasn’t eager to linger around and remind Chim all the ways he should be angry with Buck for lying to him. He left Chim and Hen talking about guild business Hen would need to know while Chim was gone. He headed for the door he had entered through. His destination was the Black Market to stock up on supplies. Whatever he and Hen had managed to scrape up on their trip to the Pass had already been consumed or was currently within the possession of the King’s Guard. He had to start from scratch. 

Hours later, near first light, Buck had everything he needed for a trip north packed away into a traveler’s pouch. It was off the newest shipment to arrive in the Sewers. It was nice quality leather, the kind Calafia was famous for, and it had a strap so that Buck could wear it on his shoulder. It was big enough to hold some provisions, like dried meat and hard bread, as well as supplies he and Chim were likely to need during their trip northward. 

He managed to get a wink or two of sleep in his bed, but he dragged himself out of bed much quicker than he would have preferred. The rotunda was quiet at this time of night with most of the resident thieves deep asleep in their beds. Hen’s stood empty, for this was liable to be the last night she got to spend with her family until Chim came back. Running the guild was hard, exhaustive, and unending work. 

Buck walked quietly toward the exit that lead out to the royal statue garden. It was the one he favored out of habit, but, in this instance, it was also the nearest to the carriages. He didn’t feel like sneaking around the King’s patrolling guards on the off chance his father actually cared enough to issue an order to drag him kicking and screaming back to the palace again. 

Truthfully, a part of Buck didn’t really want to know whether his father had issued such an order. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more: if he would rather his father to care enough to force him back to the palace or if his father didn’t and was really, finally finished with him. 

He emerged out into the Pavilion of the Kings of Old and carefully covered the entrance back up. He lingered in the pavilion just long enough to make sure there were no guards patrolling around, though there hardly ever were. Even though the Royal Court had moved to the Old Palace, there were parts of it that were crumbling in disuse. The garden laid out behind such a section. 

Buck followed a well-practice pathway from the pavilion but cut left sooner than he usually did for a straight shot toward the carriages. There was a gate in this direction that let out below the market. 

“Wondered how long it would be before you slipped your way out of the citadel again.” 

Buck stopped dead in his tracks as a woman appeared before him, stepping out from behind an old, crumbling statue of the legendary Fire King who ruled the Empire in the days of old when fires ravished the western lands until the king himself ordered the Kint River be dammed and quenched the fires. 

The woman wore a long, sweeping red robe and a hood that hid most of her face, but Buck could tell she was beautiful. She held herself highly, shoulders set like a woman who knew exactly how to get what she wanted. Mostly, Buck knew she was beautiful because of the royal crest in the broach that held her robe clasped together. This was the New Queen. This was Athena of Carver Woodlands, and the rumors that saturated the Empire from end-to-end said she was as beautiful as their beloved First Queen. Buck had only glimpsed her once from the upper windows in the Forbidden Temple, but even he had to agree that her beauty was none to be missed. 

“What? Have you nothing to say?” 

No, Buck didn’t. He stared at her, and he felt something akin to terror claw its way up his throat. He didn’t know where it had come from. The New Queen was not particularly daunting. He had spent the last years or so shoving off the inevitable, yet here he was face-to-face with the one woman he could have gone a lifetime never meeting. 

There was one truth Buck knew in his heart: it was a lot easier to hate a queen he had never met. 

“You said plenty enough earlier.” 

Buck cleared his throat. 

“What d’you want?” 

The New Queen huffed out a laugh, like the idea of Buck trampling over every royal protocol he could amused her instead of insulted her. Buck blinked, taken aback. His father would have scolded him thrice over for disrespecting the Queen. He could admit to himself that he would have deserved it. 

The hood to the queen’s robe fell back, revealing her beautiful dark face and her even more beautiful dark eyes. Even in the weak light of the early morning, she proved all of the rumors true. She looked nothing like the First Queen, not with her short black hair or the straight line of her jaw, but she was unmistakably beautiful. 

Buck hated her. He hated that his father had gone and fallen in love with her. He hated that she was here and the First Queen, his mother, was not. 

“Bobby warned me you had a tongue,” she said, oblivious to the hatred swirling in Buck’s belly. She smiled at him. Her teeth were white in the darkness. “Said you reminded him of Marcy more and more every day.” 

“Don’t talk about the Queen,” snapped Buck. 

The smile dropped from the New Queen’s face. 

“I mean no disrespect. Your mother was a remarkable woman, and I strive to be even just half the queen she was. I am sorry I never knew her.” 

Buck bit down hard on his tongue, resisting the urge to snap that he wished he had never had to meet her, the New Queen, because that would mean that the First Queen was still alive. He thought of the line he had crossed with his father only the night before and caught himself. He didn’t need to be unnecessarily cruel to the New Queen. His father wouldn’t like it. Worst of all, neither would his mother if she were still alive. 

“I would prefer if I did not have to say the same about you, Buck.” 

Buck rolled his eyes, aware of exactly how rude it was to do to someone, especially royalty. He didn’t care. He was nothing to the royal family anymore, so they had to be nothing to him, too. He was a thief, and now that was all he was. 

“Why?” 

“Because you are Bobby’s son.” 

Buck shook his head. The New Queen kept plowing ahead, extending him the same courtesy he had to her, which was to say none at all. 

“The way he talks about you, boy, you wouldn’t believe it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man speak so highly of his son—even one that doesn’t come home as often as he should.” 

She stared him straight in the eyes, and the conviction in hers was so great that Buck was almost tempted to believe her. Almost. But he knew better. The King had replaced Buck as quickly as he had the First Queen. The New Queen was proof before him. 

“Besides, one day you will be king, and maybe I’ll still be around to see it. If I am, I would like to be right there, helping you as much as I can.” 

Buck couldn’t stop his gut-response from tumbling from his lips. 

“Don’t you mean helping your daughter be queen?” 

Because that was how things were now. The King had married the New Queen, and, surely, he would rather pass the throne to one of his new children who hadn’t caused near the trouble or the heartache Buck had. When it came to trusting the future of the Empire, any good king would pass over a hot-headed, impulsive orphan-turned-heir for a new child he could mold into the perfect heir. Buck was a lost cause. He had proven that time and time again. 

“What?” asked the New Queen, and she sounded so stunned that Buck almost believed it was genuine. “Buck, that’s not—” 

“Listen, it was nice talking to you,” he interrupted. 

It wasn’t, but it was slowly growing lighter by the passing minute. He didn’t want to stand here and talk all about the future of a family he didn’t belong to anymore. Mostly, he didn’t want to think about how good of a liar the New Queen was. Or, rather, the very slim possibility of that she wasn’t lying at all. Because the thing was, deep down inside of him in a place that Buck swore didn’t exist, Buck wished nothing more than to believe her words to be true. 

But Buck was done hoping for something he knew he would never get. He was done being hurt by the people he loved. He was done being left by them. He didn’t want to let someone else leave him, and he certainly didn’t want to love someone else who would inevitably leave him. 

“I have a carriage to catch.” 

The New Queen stared at him with a frown on her face, and Buck tried to not to think about how she was looking at him like his mother used to: like she knew how much hurt he carried around in his heart and wished she could take it all away from him. 

“Okay,” she said. She spoke in a way like the words were hard to wrap her tongue around, but that was ridiculous. She didn’t know Buck, and he hadn’t exactly been nice to her. “You be safe now.” 

Buck opened his mouth to respond, but it almost immediately occurred to him that he didn’t know what to say. He closed it and nodded his head instead. He stepped around her then hurried toward the gate. 

All the while, he refused to look back at her to see if maybe she was watching him flee like a coward. He told himself he didn’t care what she thought of him. She was nothing to him. He was nothing to the royal family. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he hardly realized he had made it to the carriages until he was right in front of them. He couldn’t recall which paths he had taken there or if there were any guards he had meant to avoid. Nobody was calling after him or looking twice at him, though, so he figured he had gotten lucky. 

Chim was already at the carriage, speaking with the driver. The carriage itself was a whole lot like the one Buck had taken to Angelsbury; however, this one was a lot nicer. The seats were padded, for one. Buck wondered if it were a mere coincidence or if being the guildmaster had its perks. 

“Are you Evan of Buckley Falls?” 

Buck nearly jumped. A man stood in front of him, dressed in the typical blue and purple uniform of a courier of the Empire. He held a small package in his hand. From his shoulder hung a pack stuffed full of other parcels. 

“Uh...” said Buck, unintelligibly. 

“This is he,” confirmed Chim, coming to a stop next to Buck. He gestured for the courier to hand Buck the package. “He isn’t exactly a morning person.” 

“Of course, sir,” said the courier. “Package traveled a long way, all the way from Corr’s Fort in the Pass. The sender elected not to provide his name.” 

He shoved the package into Buck’s hands, and Buck’s fingers wrapped around it out of instinct. The courier offered no more information as to the package or its sender, which signaled he knew nothing more. Chim offered him a handful of coin for his troubles. The courier nodded in acknowledgement. He pocketed the coin. 

“Thank you for using the Royal Courier Services.” 

He left in the next second, leaving Buck and Chim alone next to the carriage. Buck stared at the package in his hands. It wasn’t big and definitely not big enough to have to be held in both of Buck’s hands. It was wrapped in rough burlap, like the sender had repurposed an old sack for the package. It was tied together with a thin rope made of straw. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” 

“What if it’s a trap?” 

“Then I think whoever sent it would have given strict instructions to not deliver it in the middle of the citadel.” 

Chim had a point, so Buck pulled at the knot until the rope gave away and the package fell open in his hands. It revealed a strip of blue fabric that was, at its edges, stained brown. In the middle of it was a scrap of parchment with the words _wear this and think of me _written in hasty, unfamiliar script. Buck picked up the parchment, and beneath it laid a silver necklace. The etching of a flame stared up at him. He knew, even without turning it over, that this was an exact copy of the ones Chim and Hen wore. 

Chim whistled through his teeth, putting together the pieces as quickly as Buck did. Still, Buck felt the need to confirm it out loud. 

“It’s from Eddie.” 

Chim looked up at Buck, studying him carefully. He pointed at the strip of blue fabric. 

“Do you know what this is?” 

Buck glanced down at it then back up at Chim. 

“Padding for the necklace so it wouldn’t get scratched in transit?” 

Chim sighed. He shook his head. His eyes never left those of Buck’s. His lips were a thin line. 

“It’s an Undergrounders’ Proof.” 

Buck froze. He tightened his grip on the package and its content, even as the strip of fabric burned like fire at his realization. An Undergrounders’ Proof was a dangerous thing to hold. 

“You mean—” 

But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Chim took pity on him and confirmed what Buck already knew. He leaned closely to Buck, speaking quietly and concealing the package in Buck’s hands from those around them with his frame. 

“When the Undergrounders complete a hit contract, they provide proof they have killed the target. Usually, it’s a piece of the mark’s clothing dipped in their blood. Without it, the Undergrounders have no right to the payment.” 

Buck’s chest tightened. His breaths came short, and it was hard to draw them. He didn’t like the cautious way Chim was regarding him. He had never dreamed he would hold an Undergrounders’ Proof. He still couldn’t believe it in his hands right now, despite the unmistakable weight of it. 

“But I didn’t take a contract,” he said, lowly. “And by the way they tried to kill me the last time we ran into one another, I’m not sure they would have honored one if I did.” 

“Hen told me about that,” said Chim. “Said there was one who—” 

“Who what?” 

Chim glanced down at the strip of fabric again, like it contained all of the answers. It was nothing more than a bloodstained piece of cloth. Chim was no more versed in the magical arts than Buck himself was. 

“Hen said there was one of the Undergrounders who had it out for you, said he held you with his sword at your neck, cut you up bad, do you remember what he was wearing?” 

Buck could feel the ghost of the Undergrounders’ blade against his neck and the warm trickle of blood as it fell down his neck. The King’s Guard had patched him up good. The healing elixirs had done their job. The mark on Buck’s neck was hardly more than a faint scar that would more than likely be gone completely in a few days’ time. 

“What?” 

“The color of his shirt, Buck. What was it?” 

“Blue,” said Buck, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand. He remembered the streak of mud across the Undergrounder’s shirt when the Undergrounder had rolled away from him in the scuffle. “It was blue.” 

Chim didn’t look too surprised. He had figured everything out before Buck had clumsily put the pieces together. The truth of the matter was unmistakable in Buck’s hands: Eddie had carried out a contract on the man who had tried to kill Buck, and he had acquired a necklace to protect Buck like he had Chim and Hen, and Buck didn’t know what to do with any of this except to pocket the strip of fabric and the scrap of parchment and to loop the necklace around his neck. 

The pendant felt heavy against his chest. 

He numbly climbed up into the carriage behind Chim where they claimed the last seats in the back. He held the pendant between his fingers and pressed it to his lips, praying to all of the gods his father wanted him to believe in that wherever Eddie was, whatever he was doing, he was keeping himself safe. 


	9. Chapter 9

Kingsmarsh laid directly west of the River Province, but its capital hold, Hart, ran a direct trade line straight up through the heart of Calafia and farther up into the mountains of the Backlands. It was the quickest way to travel to the Backlands from the Station, though it wasn’t exactly a straight shot. The route supported two tricky passages: the cross from the River Province into Kingsmarsh across the Great River and then much later in the twisting, rocky path into the mountains of the Backlands. 

Buck and Chim traveled heavy over the next few days. They helped the carriage cross the difficult Great River into the wetlands of Kingsmarsh when it became obvious the driver needed the assistance and nobody else knew how to handle the treacherous crossing. Both Buck and Chim were well-traveled. The guild seldom operated within the bounds of the River Province, and the Crossing at the Great River was one of the easier passages northward. 

The roads here in  Kingsmarsh were carefully packed dirt mixed with cobblestone. They had to be or else the road would become impassable after a couple of carriages  trotted over it.  Kingsmarsh was comprised mostly of swamp and low lands where, especially in the rainy seasons, water gathered across the land and became hostage in the flats. 

The road to Hart twisted through the wetlands, which were known for their rice fields and their blackberry patches and their cranberry ponds. This time of a year, they were all well-worked, and farmers toiled out in the fields all day long. The carriage followed the twisting road as it went, running along fields and patches and ponds until the low-down line of houses appeared on the horizon.

Hart was a lot like the Station. The buildings were hunkered low to the ground and spread out across the wet, unsteady ground. Everything here was built with mud bricks, made of the rich wetland soils and the twigs and stalks and debris left over from their farms. The bricks weren’t pretty, but they were strong and sturdy and the only things that stood the test of the wetlands.

For its prominence as the capital hold of Kingsmarsh, Hart was amongst the smallest capital holds in the Empire. It did offer all of the staple services: a general store, an apothecary, and a tavern. The central palace—a generous descriptive term for the one-room royal quarters—blended in with the rest of the nearby buildings and houses. Only the banners hanging outside and the guards posted at the door denoted its importance. Buck tried to ignore the palace best he could. 

They switched carriages at the northern gate. Chim elected to ride on through the night rather than wait for the morning passage. Buck didn’t argue with him, though he was sick and tired of carriage travel already and he hadn’t felt his lower extremities since shortly after they crossed the Great River. He was as eager as Chim to make it to the Backlands, perhaps even more so.

“What do you think we’re going to find?” asked Buck, quietly. 

They sat in the back of the nearly-empty carriage. Other than the driver, the only other passengers were a couple of men who had boarded the carriage in Hart. They sat the front and carried on a conversation with the driver as the carriage steadily made its way northward. 

They should make it to  Calafia long before sunrise and then the mountainous border of the Backlands by morning of the third day, allowing for stops along the way to change horses. Once they got in the mountains, their progress would be easily halved. It would likely be another week at the earliest before they made it to Diaz Mountains in the very north. Buck tried not to think about how much time that was and all of the things that could happen between now and then. 

Chim sighed. In the soft light of the moon, he looked over at Buck. It was too dark to clearly read the expression on his face, but Buck could tell he was frowning. A heavy weight settled in Buck’s stomach. 

“I don’t know,” said Chim, finally. 

He hesitated after that, like there was more he wanted to say. He glanced at the front of the carriage. The men were too far away and were talking too loudly to know that Buck and Chim had said anything to each other at all. 

“Then why are we going?” asked Buck, pulling out the question he really wanted to know. 

Hen and Chim clearly knew something Buck didn’t. It bothered him a little that neither of them had felt the need to let him in on the secret. He wasn’t sure what it was about that which worried him more: that they hadn’t trusted him to know it or that they were afraid of what Buck might do if he knew.

“Because Eddie is a thief, one of our own, and we don’t leave our own to fend for themselves.”

Buck nodded. He knew that. It was what had sent him to Angelsbury in the first place. Still, it didn’t answer his question. 

“Are you expecting Eddie to be in Diaz Mountains? I mean, I thought his whole family was there. He wouldn’t take trouble to them, would he?”

Chim hesitated.

“No,” he said, carefully. He clarified himself in the next minute, like he was picking and choosing his words. “I don’t expect Eddie to be there, because you’re right. He wouldn’t take trouble to his family.”

“But?”

Chim huffed.

“You never give up, do you? You can’t just sit back and trust what we’re doing?”

“Not when there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

“Doesn’t feel so good to be on that end of things, does it?”

Buck winced. 

“No,” he said, lowly. “It doesn’t, and I’m sorry about—”

“That’s water under the bridge,” said Chim, cutting him off. “I was just poking fun at you. I know why you didn’t tell me. I don’t agree with it, but I can’t exactly fault you for what you don’t know.”

“What don’t I know?”

Chim didn’t answer for a long time. The carriage steadily made its way forward, the wheels popping and cracking across the cobblestone dirt path. In the light of the waning moon, there wasn’t much about  Kingsmarsh to appreciate, just leagues and leagues of rice fields outlined with swampy trees and scatted with wild blackberries. It was the same scenery that had passed all day.

“Back in the day,” said Chim, after nearly half of a league of silence, “we had code words for everything.”

“I thought the guild still did?”

“No, I mean, Hen and me and Eddie.”

Buck nodded. He had always sort of thought that Hen and Chim spoke in their own language sometimes. 

“And, well, one of our distress calls was that someone was dead who actually wasn’t.”

Buck froze. 

“And it usually meant that whoever it was, they were in danger.” 

“But, I mean, I didn’t know that, and Eddie must have known I didn’t. He could have really just been playing on my sympathies.”

Chim sighed, long and drawn out like what he was going to say was going to break Buck’s heart and he loathed to do so.

“No, I think—Hen and I think that Eddie banked on you not knowing but telling us anyway.”

“He made me promise not to tell.”

“Did he, though? Did he make you swear upon  _ Adiara _ _ _ or did he pose it as something like a proposition or a deal?”

“How d’you—”

“I know Eddie, Buck. He’s a smart man. He has to be, to have what he has and his head still on his shoulders.”

“All right, say Eddie meant for me to spill the beans, why not come out and tell me his mother’s in danger and that the guild should probably look into it?”

“My guess? He was probably concerned about the Undergrounders spying on him and figuring out that he knew of the danger.”

Buck nodded. It made sense. He sat back in his seat, against the wobbly back of the carriage, ready to try and get some shut eye while the sun was still down and the carriage was rumbling beneath him. It had been a long trip from the Station, and he faced a long one still to the Backlands. Exhaustion had started to seep into his bones. 

“But you should know, Buck, that we don’t think it’s Eddie’s mother who is in trouble.”

Buck sat straight up, his eyes wide and his heart thumping like crazy in his chest. He whipped around to stare at Chim in the moonlight. Chim was looking straight back at him. Shadow plagued his face, but there was a serious set to his jaw that Buck knew all too well. 

“But Eddie said his mother was dead.”

“Because she was the safest to say,” said Chim, “but there was more to the code. You said Eddie referred to his dead mother’s jewels?”

Buck nodded.

“I had snatched a few necklaces,” he said. He chuckled. “I think one of them was even the Amulet.”

Chim laughed, but it didn’t last long. Maybe in any other circumstance, any other conversation, it would have.

“Well,  Hen thinks—and I agree—that what Eddie was really talking about was the jewels, and if that’s the case, then Eddie’s mother is fine.”

“Okay,” say Buck slowly. 

He wished Chim would go ahead and spit out whatever it was he was dancing around, but he found that he wasn’t sure he was eager for the information. His heart thumped like a kick drum in his chest. His stomach churned. He wished they were closer to the Backlands than they were. Whatever it was that Hen and Chim thought, it wasn’t good. It was probably even worse than Buck had been imagining in his head this whole time. 

“But—Buck, what do you know about Eddie?”

_ How he good he looks standing in the sunlight and how sweet desperation tasted on his lips _ , thought Buck, but he knew neither of those answers were what Chim was looking for. He thought back to what he did know about Eddie that might be pertinent to Chim’s hesitancy.

“He’s a, uh, Black Heart, for one,” said Buck, extra quietly, so that nobody would even halfway overhear him. That was Eddie’s most guarded secret. Buck felt all sorts of wrong saying it even that loudly to Chim who already knew. 

“Yeah,” said Chim, “but his family, Buck. What d’you know about them?”

“They’re from Diaz Mountains. Lived there for generations, according to Hen. And, apparently, his mother is both alive and, if what you say is true, not in danger.”

Chim laughed again, but it lasted as long as the previous one did, which was to say that it didn’t last long at all. He sobered almost immediately. He sucked in a long breath, and Buck felt the urge to mimic him. Whatever it was that Chim was building up to couldn’t be good.

“He has a son.”

And Buck pictured him, a mini-version of Eddie, and Buck’s heart exploded at the idea. He loved kids. He couldn’t get Eddie out of his head for even two seconds before now, and he didn’t think he would ever stop picturing Eddie as a father until he saw it with his own eyes.

“His name is Christopher,” said Chim, ever-so-softly to where Buck could hardly hear him above the noise of the carriage wheels. “He’s probably about seven or eight now, I’m not sure. He was born in the war. It’s what—well, Eddie likes to say that he followed after Hen straight into the bowels of the war, but I’m not so sure he did.”

It occurred to Buck then, with sharp clarity that pierced through the growing fondness in Buck’s chest for Eddie, that Eddie having a son meant that Eddie’s son had a mother. It was like a lead weight had been dropped in his stomach. Maybe, despite everything, even Eddie’s reassurances, he was wrong this whole time. Maybe Buck’s trysts with Eddie were nothing more than  distracters from whatever Eddie didn’t want Buck poking his head into. Maybe Eddie had a wife waiting for him back home, that he was going to return to the minute the Undergrounders lost interest in him. 

“What does Eddie’s son have to do with anything?”

“Christopher’s mother is dead,” said Chim, and Buck felt a pang of guilt for jumping to conclusions. “She was killed in a raid when she was pregnant with Christopher. I think you can probably guess what saved Christopher.”

_ Or rather who _ , thought Buck. Eddie was said to be blessed by  _ Xyzaruna _ . His whole family was. She was the goddess of death, but she was also the goddess of mercy and young children. She was the goddess people prayed to for her blessing on pregnancies. If she could bestow her blessing on any one in the Empire, she would not let an heir of her chosen family die in childbirth. Buck wasn’t even sure he believed in the gods or their benevolence, but he knew this with every fiber of his soul.

“Wait—” said Buck, as the pieces finally fell into place in his mind. “You think that  _ Christopher _ is in danger?”

An overwhelming surge of horror shot through his chest.  Immediately following it was the desire to protect Christopher. It was as strong as Buck’s longing for Eddie. Maybe even stronger. Buck loved kids, but he was pretty sure he loved this one even more than any others already. 

“Yes, we do,” confirmed Chim, needlessly. “So, you see why it’s so important we’re going to the Backlands.”

“Yeah, of course, of course,” said Buck, “but why now? Why are we just now checking on Christopher if he’s been in danger this whole time?”

“That’s the thing. He shouldn’t in danger. Nobody should know about him. I shouldn’t have been able to tell you about him, let alone tell you his name.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it, but Eddie’s grandmother, I think, she can do  _ things  _ that mess with a person’s mind, and she, uh, made it to where nobody knew of Christopher or could talk about him if they already knew of him, so it was like he didn’t exist, and if he didn’t exist, he was perfectly safe.”

“Except now you can talk about him, so you think something happened to Eddie’s grandmother.”

“Worse. I think the Undergrounders know about Christopher, and we have to beat them to him if they do, because if we don’t... Christopher is as good as dead, and Eddie, too.”

Buck didn’t rest well that night or for the rest of the trip. The carriage pushed on northward. By morning, they had left Kingsmarsh behind. The wetlands clung on into Calafia for a few leagues until they gave away to rich, fertile farmland. Calafia was like a mixing pot of the rest of the Empire. It was most known for its sprawling farmlands that produced most of the Empire’s wheat, but it had about every type of landscape the other provinces were known for: hills in the east, mountains in the north, forests in the west, and wetlands in the south. It was truly the center of the Empire. 

Calafia was beautiful, but Buck was too restless to appreciate its beauty. The northward road, which had transitioned from cobblestone dirt to proper stone roads in places, cut through the heart of the province, yet it avoided Angelsbury entirely. Buck was glad. Passages through citadels were never quick. Passes through the villages and hamlets the northward road did cut through were not quick, either, for they had to stop and switch horses or let more passengers board or let some passengers off. 

Buck counted the hours as they passed. By the time the first mountains of the foothills began to take hold on the horizon, Buck had counted higher than he ever thought he would when he started.  Calafia was one of the largest provinces. They had been traveling for days.

The foothills eventually gave over to proper mountains, and quicker than Buck would have thought, the carriage came to a stop before the mountain pass. They had to take a team of horses through the pass, because it was too narrow for the carriages. On the other side, they loaded up into another carriage and began their ascent through the mountains. 

The air was growing noticeably cooler. Buck shivered until he couldn’t take it anymore and finally dug into his pack to pull out a warm doublet that  Hen had  insisted he  bring . He was grateful to her in that moment in time perhaps more than he had ever been. 

He pulled on the doublet and instantly stopped shivering. He finally understood Hen and even Eddie’s liking for them. This was the type of clothing he wished he would have had as a boy when he was clinging to life in the frozen tundra. His family hadn’t had enough money for warm clothes. They had barely had enough resources for firewood to feed their tiny woodstove, and even then the precious water in the buckets they kept in the shack they called home froze.

The mountains were snow-capped and majestic. They were breath-taking. This wasn’t the first time Buck had seen them. He had had many jobs in the Backlands throughout his career as a thief, and he had also traveled here as the prince of the Empire once upon a time. The beauty of the mountains struck him every time like he had never seen them before. 

Because of the treachery of the mountain pass, they had to stop every night. Chim and Buck made their way through inns in the province, passing time with a tankard of ale in front of a roaring fire. The inns in the Backlands were sparsely crowded. Most they stayed in were too remote for regular travelers. But the ale was good, and the bread was always fresh, so Buck and Chim made the best of it. 

The days of travel were long, and the nights of sitting around pretending to sleep were even longer. They were so long, in fact, that Buck wondered if the Backlands would ever end. He asked as much of Chim one day, probably five or six days beyond the foothills, and Chim had only laughed. He pointed at the mountain they were soon to ascend. Unlike its neighbors, it had a jagged peek, like the top of it had been ripped off and thrown away. It was dotted with mines and stone houses, an entire village built into the mountain. 

“Welcome to Diaz Mountains.”


	10. Chapter 10

The carriage let them off at the foot of the Diaz Mountains. The sign posted at the gate of the village read simply _Diaz_. It was written in two languages, the spoken commonly across the Empire and the one native to the ancient Backlands. Beneath it was the royal crest, but Buck pointedly ignored it. He looked to Chim for guidance instead. 

“So, what’s the plan?” 

“Scope the place out. Try to go unnoticed,” answered Chim. 

No sooner had he spoke than a woman stopped right in front of them. She was older, with graying hair and deep brown eyes. She looked vaguely familiar, though Buck knew he had never before seen her in his life. 

“Howard?” 

Buck looked questioningly at Chim and saw all of the blood drain from his face. Chim obviously recognized the woman. He sighed. 

“So much for that plan,” he said to Buck. He offered the woman a smile, and it was, surprisingly, genuine. “Pepa, it is a pleasure to see you again.” 

She must have thought so, too, because she drew Chim in for a tight, quick hug. When they parted, she held him at arm’s length to look him up and down. 

“You haven’t been eating well,” she accused. 

Chim winced, bowing his head like he had insulted her. 

“It’s been a long journey from the River,” he said. 

She nodded, like she knew as much. She let go of him and stepped back. Chim scratched the back of his head then gestured at Buck. 

“This is—” 

“I know royalty when I see them, Howard,” she interrupted, kindly. She offered Buck a smile. The twinkle in her eyes was unsettling. “Welcome to Diaz Mountains, Your Royal Highness.” 

Buck waved her off. 

“None of that,” he said. He hated it enough when people who knew him referred to him as royalty, especially after the royal wedding. He didn’t want strangers to address him as such, either. 

He was still bothered by her familiarity. He couldn’t figure out why she made the hairs on his arms stand up like they were. She seemed like a sweet, gentle lady—anyone who could scold Chim so well was good in Buck’s book. But Buck was certain he had never before met her. 

“You prefer Buck, then?” 

Buck blinked at her in surprise. She knew his name. Something familiar prickled in the back of his mind, like a long-ago memory forever lost to the test of time. He still couldn’t put his finger on why. 

“He said you would come,” said Pepa, like Buck knew exactly who she was talking about. He wasn’t sure if he did or he didn’t. She didn’t give him time to question her. She looked back at Chim and motioned for them both to follow her. “You don’t have much time.” 

Chim nodded, seriously. He glanced briefly at Buck. 

“That’s Pepa, Eddie’s aunt.” 

Then Chim moved to follow her without giving Buck a chance to respond. Buck felt like he was ten steps behind their conversation—much like he did when Chim and Hen spoke—but, given the urgency in Pepa’s step, wherever they were going was too dire to explain. He filed away his confusion. If Chim and Eddie’s aunt both thought time to be so precious as to not stand around and offer proper introductions, then it was probably was. So, Buck hurried to keep up with the rapid pace Pepa had set as they twisted and turned down the narrow, rocky path that cut through the village. 

The village of Diaz was impressive, though not in height or even area. It was roughly the same size as the citadel of Hart, but the two were hard to compare. The mountains were hundreds of leagues away from the wetlands. 

Where the buildings back in Hart were made of mud bricks and constructed low to the ground, the buildings here were made of the rocks mined straight from the mountain. This was the life-blood of the Backlands. Houses, shops, and official royal buildings alike clung tightly to the mountaintop, like they were holding on for dear life and if they let go even for a second, they would tumble into the nothingness that was the valley far, far below. 

Here, unlike anywhere else in the entire Empire, the streets follow natural paths along the curve of the mountain. They were not chosen by man. Some of them were hardly wide enough for a grown man to pass through. Buck took extra care when passing over them, and he tried not to think about what would happen if he were to stumble. He didn’t particularly like falling. 

One thing was for certain: Diaz was not a pass-through village. It was a final destination. 

“Is he here?” asked Chim, seemingly forever later, as they turned onto yet another path. 

Buck was so lost he was pretty sure the only way he would make it out of this village on his own would be to step off a ledge somewhere and free-fall down below. The idea made his toes curl. He might die here in Diaz Mountains, and it wouldn’t be glorious at all, only the tale of some love-sick fool chasing after a doomed lover and tripping to his death from a path that cut through the sky. 

Pepa glanced over her shoulder. She strangely had no qualms about doing so, not even as the pathway narrowed significantly. Part of it looked like it was one good stomp away from crumbling away beneath their feet. Buck swallowed against the lump of anxiety in his throat. He wasn’t usually afraid of heights—some of his best escapes had been literal leaps of faith into the unknown—but the height of Diaz Mountains was a whole different scale of _tall _. 

“Thought maybe he was with you,” she said, quietly. Buck barely heard her. “He’s supposed to leave with you.” 

“Well,” said Chim, “he’d better get here quick, then.” 

Pepa laughed. Buck would have, except he was trying very hard not to vomit. The pathway was too thin and too narrow for his liking. Maybe he needed to reevaluate his fear of heights. He absolutely had one. 

The path widened back out and spilled into a small garden on the edge of a precipice. Beyond it was a manor house built into the side of the mountain. Even farther, down a path wide enough to get a team of mules, was the entrance to the mine. It had a weathered sign nailed above it that, in the old Backlandian language, read: Mine of Death. 

Buck knew, without Chim telling him or Pepa welcoming him, that this was the home Eddie had grown up in. 

“We’ve packed provisions for your journey back,” said Pepa, leading them into the stone-front house. 

Inside, the foyer was made of the same exposed stone, like it had been carved from the mountainside. Around these parts, it really probably had been centuries ago. Pepa led them into the parlor, where there was a roaring fire that warmed the room so much Buck began to sweat through his duvet. It was furnished with a pair of long couches that faced each other and a trio of armchairs scattered about, all covered in soft red upholstery. The furniture wouldn’t have looked out of place in a royal palace, and it spoke to the riches of the mines more than anything else possibly could have. 

“We were actually hoping to get some information,” said Chim to Pepa. 

But a young dark-haired lady stepped into the room from a doorway on the opposite side of the parlor. She looked remarkably similar to Eddie that she had to be his sister. Buck hadn't even known Eddie had had a sister, but there was no mistaking who she could be. If Pepa looked so familiar because she was Eddie’s aunt, this dark-haired lady couldn’t have been anyone else. 

“You’re here,” she said, presumably to Chim, who she had to know, but she stared unabashedly at Buck. 

“Yes, they’re here,” confirmed Pepa, hurriedly. “We don’t have time to doddle, Sophia. Make sure everything is in order.” 

Sophia nodded. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Buck this entire time. She left by the door she had entered, and it was only Buck and Chim left with Pepa. 

“Please excuse us for the haste,” she said. “Usually, we’re more welcoming, but, considering the circumstances...” 

She trailed off, then she seemed to remember what Chim had said before Sophia had interrupted them. 

“Everything you need to know, you will know, but now is not the time.” 

She strolled over to one of the tall windows that bracketed the fireplace. She peaked through the long, cream colored drapes. She frowned at what she saw then took a step back, letting the drape fall back into place. She turned back to Chim and Buck. 

“You still have your amulets,_ sí _?” 

Buck furrowed his brows, confused. 

“Yes,” confirmed Chim. He looked at Buck, gesturing to the necklace around his neck, the one that Eddie had sent via courier. “You didn’t think that was just for show, did you?” 

Buck hadn’t really thought much of it. He had been too preoccupied on the other part of the package, the bloodstained strip of blue fabric. Eddie had killed for him. He wasn’t sure what to make of that bit of information or how it was supposed to slot so easily into place. Someone had tried to kill him, so Eddie had taken revenge when he was supposed to be lying low, hiding from the very person he killed—and he had done it all for Buck. 

“Good,” said Pepa. “That should slow anyone down who is trying to follow you on your way back.” 

“Why do you think we’re going to be followed on the way back?” asked Buck. 

He felt, once again, like he was ten steps behind everybody else. 

Pepa didn’t answer Buck. She looked to Chim instead. 

“You didn’t tell him.” 

It wasn’t a question, though it should have been. Pepa seemed to know more than she should. Nothing had yet surprised her. It was unsettling in that same familiar, prickly way that Buck still couldn’t figure out. 

“Not been time,” said Chim. 

He was leaning up against the doorframe of the parlor with his arms folded across his chest. He looked like the epitome of relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders belied how on edge he was. Buck had thought they came here for information or a lead to where Eddie was or maybe to check out things to see if the Undergrounders were making a name for themselves here in the heart of _Xyzaruna’s _homeland, but Buck was beginning to realize this wasn’t an intel-gathering job at all. 

“For all he is going to sacrifice,” said Pepa, “maybe you should make time.” 

Chim said nothing. Under the cover of his thieves’ hood, his expression was almost indecipherable. Buck turned to Pepa instead. She seemed to be more forthcoming with information. 

The window next to Pepa exploded into hundreds of fragments. A glass bottle shattered across the stone floor, erupting into a large puff of smoke that consumed the room in a fraction of a second. Buck drew in a startled lungful of the smoke and choked on it. His eyes burned. His knees gave out beneath him. 

Then—as quickly as it came, the smoke left, drawing back to the bottle that reassembled itself right before Buck’s very eyes. He watched in stunned disbelief as the bottle lifted from the ground and flung itself back through the window from whence it had come. The shattered pieces of glass to the window floated back into their original places. Everything was as it was, none the wiser. 

If not for the taste of smoke thick in the back of Buck’s throat, he wouldn’t have believed the last minute had even happened as he had witnessed it. 

Pepa staggered in place. Chim pushed himself off the door frame and was by her side in the next second, steadying her on her feet. She patted his arm thankfully. Her face was pale, her brow sweaty. Buck realized in that moment why he had been suffering from a case of twisted déjà vu this whole time: Pepa—and probably the rest of the family—was a Black Heart, just like Eddie. 

“You need to go,” she said. “Take the pack by the back door and led them astray. Buy however much time you can.” 

Chim’s lips were a thin line, but he nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at Buck, who had, in the last few seconds, grabbed the back of one of the armchairs to keep himself upright. Buck felt weightless, like his knees could still give out beneath him at any second. He drew in a long, readying breath. If Chim thought they needed to go—if Pepa did—then Buck would go. 

“Rendezvous at the Queen’s Point,” said Chim. 

It sounded dangerously like they were splitting up, and Chim was leaving Buck behind. 

“Wait—what?” 

“You know where that is?” 

Buck winced. 

“What kind of question is that?” 

“Rendezvous there in a few days. I don’t know how many, but you will.” 

“Chim—” 

“You want to know why I brought you along instead of Hen?” 

“Because you knew I wouldn’t stay behind? That I was coming here whether you wanted me to or not? So you could keep an eye on me?” 

Chim flashed him the briefest of smiles, like he would laugh if this were any other situation. The smile was gone almost as quickly as it came. Chim met Buck’s eyes, his own shining with seriousness. 

“Because you will keep Eddie and Christopher safe. You will bring them home.” 

Buck wetted his lips. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Pepa huffed, shaking her head at Chim. He ignored her and stared at Buck instead. 

“Trust Christopher, and keep Eddie safe. That’s all you have to do.” 

The door behind Pepa blew open. In it stood Sophia again. Her eyes were wild. Her hands were trembling and red. Behind her stood a young boy about seven or eight summers old, and Buck’s breath caught in his throat, recognizing him instantly. The boy had a head full of curly brown hair, solemn brown eyes, and a curve of his lip that was Eddie made all over. He leaned heavily on the crutches clasped in both of his hands. This was Christopher. 

“Chim, you must leave _now_,” urged Sophia. She addressed Pepa next. “The Undergrounders have breached the outer gate. Abuela is holding them off, but she can’t forever by herself.” 

Chim leapt into action. He nodded once at Buck in a farewell then dashed around Sophia and Christopher, disappearing farther into the manor. It was obvious, in the way that Chim hadn’t hesitated or asked questions, that he had spent a lot of time here. Buck thought of Hen’s story, of how the Diazes had taken Chim in and nursed him back to health. 

“_Xyzaruna, _the merciful, help us,” said Pepa. 

It was a prayer that Buck’s father, the King, would have sent up. Buck felt a flash of homesickness and immediately chastised himself. Now was not the time to dwell upon his father. It wasn’t the time to wallow in everything he had lost. 

“What do I need to do?” asked Buck. 

He felt helpless, but he had seen Pepa’s magic, and there were traces that Sophia had it as well, and Abuela was apparently holding her own, so Buck knew better than to believe that they were doomed where they were. He wished Eddie was there. Eddie would know what to do. He had run with the Undergrounders, after all. 

“This is Christopher,” said Pepa, nodding to the boy in question, though Buck had already gathered as much. “He is—” 

“Eddie’s son,” said Buck. “Chim did tell me that much.” 

He offered Christopher a smile, and Christopher gave him a shy one back. It made Buck’s heart skip a beat. _Eiwoas _, Buck was too easy for Diaz boys. 

“They can’t take him from us,” said Pepa. 

She sounded old and terrified and worn-out, and Buck was overcome with a burst of rage. The Diazes hadn’t asked for this. They hadn’t asked to be blessed by_ Xyzaruna _or tasked with guarding her Amulet. They hadn’t asked to be hunted like wild beasts by the Undergrounders, trapped in their own home. 

“So, you take him, Buck, and you get him far away from here, and you protect him with your life, you hear me?” 

Buck nodded. He would have agreed to anything Pepa asked of him, but ever since he had laid eyes on Christopher—longer than, probably; maybe as long as he had known Christopher existed—he knew he would protect him. He had to. He was Eddie’s son. 

“Buck, I need you to swear to me.” 

“I swear upon the blood of _Adiara _that I will protect Christopher,” said Buck, solemnly. 

He felt the curse of_ Adiara_ weight down on his shoulders. Usually, he was hesitant about swearing, especially invoking the goddess of promises, because _Adiara _had the might of disasters on her side. His father had told him all of the stories of the gods, and none were more terrifying than those of _Adiara’s_wrath and broken promises. 

This promise could destroy him, but he didn’t care. This was Eddie’s son, and Buck loved kids, and he couldn’t get Eddie out of his head. He may as well have been made to protect Christopher. 

“Then you must go now,” said Pepa. “We can protect you as far as the borders of Diaz Mountains but no farther.” 

Buck didn’t like the idea of leaving Pepa, Sophia, and Abuela to defend this place by themselves. He had seen first-hand how dedicated the Undergrounders were. Worse, he had seen how deadly the Undergrounders were. 

As if reading Buck’s mind—who knows, maybe she actually did—Pepa ushered Buck toward Christopher. Sophia pressed a pack into Buck’s hands. It was the promised provisions. He hung it over his shoulder on instinct more than anything. 

“I’m not very fast,” said Christopher, solemnly, looking up at Buck. 

“That’s okay,” said Buck. He extended his arms. “I can carry you. I can be fast enough for the both of us.” 

Christopher offered him a wide grin. He leaned forward, off his crutches, so that Buck could pick him up. Sophia helped to break down Christopher’s crutches and strap them to the pack so that Buck didn’t have to worry about carrying those in his hands. 

“You be good for Buck,” said Sophia. 

This close, Buck could see the sheen of sweat on her forehead. He wondered if she, too, could reverse time like Pepa did. It didn’t feel appropriate to ask. 

“We have to go now, Buck,” said Christopher, urgently. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Sophia or Pepa. Perhaps he already had. “Or we’ll be too late.” 

Buck wanted to ask_ too late for what? _but Sophia gave him a shove toward the back of the manor where Chim had disappeared. Buck stumbled to catch his footing then kept on going. Far away, from somewhere deep in the manor, he could hear glass breaking. A woman cried out. It sounded like a war cry, and Buck knew the Undergrounders had entered the manor. He needed to get Christopher out now. 

He ran as fast he could, his feet pounding across the stone floors. It reminded Buck of running through the palaces as a child, but he didn’t let himself get lost in the nostalgia of days gone by. He had done enough thinking about his past lately. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, turning when Christopher told him to and slowing up to sling open doors at Christopher’s direction. 

They were just about out of the manor. Buck could tell, because this was, sadly, not the first manor house he had had to flee from. They were all laid out similarly enough, especially those in the same provinces, that he could usually gauge how close he was to an exit. So far, they hadn’t run into anyone. They were so close that Buck felt the beginnings of relief tug at his fingertips. 

“Buck, stop!” 

Except Buck had too much inertia behind him. He couldn’t stop. All he could do was round the corner, and he stumbled to a stop, the tip of a sword inches from his face. His heart plummeted to the ground. He adjusted his hold on Christopher to stand between him and the blade. 

An Undergrounder stared at him, their sword extended and the bottom half of their face covered. Buck couldn’t tell who it was. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. But by the way the corners of their eyes were crinkled, the Undergrounder was grinning. 

“Thanks for doing all of the hard work, Prince,” said the Undergrounder. She had a gravelly voice. 

Buck tightened his hold on Christopher as he took quick stock of his options. The only way out was the door behind her or the corridor he had just run down. He could hear the sound of a fight echo in the house. He was too disoriented and too unfamiliar with the exact layout of the house to know how far the Undergrounders had gotten. 

“Give me the boy, and you can walk out of here,” propositioned the Undergrounder. 

Buck huffed, rolling his eyes. That wasn’t a deal he would ever dream of making, but even if it was, he wasn’t stupid. The Undergrounders knew no mercy. 

“If you want the boy, you’ll have to go through me,” he said. 

He set Christopher down, though Christopher clung to him like he didn’t want to let go. Buck handed him his crutches instead. 

“Run,” he murmured. “Find Pepa or Sophia or anyone. Tell them I’m sorry.” 

He stepped in front of Christopher and drew the only weapon he had on him, the dagger at his hip. He had gotten a lot of use out of it lately. If he was going to protect Christopher, he was going to die fighting to give Christopher a chance to run to safety. 

The Undergrounder attacked first, swinging her sword with deadly precision. Buck danced out its reach. He was no trained knight, that was true, but his father had instilled a few good moves in his head. He was, after all, meant to rule the Empire one day, once upon a time. Just because that had been usurped from him didn’t mean he had forgotten some of the tactics his father had taught him. Those tactics had done him well enough in bar fights and getting away from jobs-gone-wrong. He prayed to_ Xyzaruna _ they would do him well enough now to protect Christopher. 

He attacked back with an upward jab. He caught the meat of the Undergrounder’s upper arm, slicing a chunk out of it and spraying bright red blood everywhere. The Undergrounder grunted. She switched her sword hands, dropped to the floor, and kicked Buck’s feet out from underneath him. 

Buck hit the floor hard. The dagger skidded out his hand and across the floor. Time seemed to slow down. The Undergrounder loomed above him, her sword poised in the air ready to deliver the killing blow. He knew without a doubt that this was it for him. He was going to die in the porte-cochère of the Diaz’s manor. 

He was going to die, and he had never told his father how much he loved him, even now after his father had replaced him. He was going to die, and he had never told the new queen how beautiful she had looked on her wedding day. He was going to die, and he had never followed through on his promise to check up on his sister and make sure her married life was treating her well. He was going to die, and Eddie would never know how quick and how hard Buck had fallen in love with him. 

Still in slow motion, the Undergrounder leaned forward, putting all of her weight behind the sword, and swung it straight at Buck’s chest. He counted the breaths as he drew them in, certain they were going to be his last. 

_ One. _

_ Two. _

A sleek, black arrow struck the Undergrounder in the throat. The Undergrounder stumbled back. Her sword clattered to the ground, hitting the stone floor near Buck’s feet. She choked on her own blood. She fell, hard, against the wall behind her and slid down, leaving a bloody trail in her wake. She didn’t move again. 

Time speed up, back to normal. A figure appeared over him, offering a gloved hand to help him up. Buck looked at it, dumbly, his heart pounding in his ears, hardly able to believe he was _alive _. The figure was dressed in a black leather, similar to that of a thief, with a thick black-as-coal doublet pulled over his chest. He held Christopher in the arm that wasn’t extended to Buck. 

Buck locked eyes with the man. A grin shined back at him, and Buck lost his breath at the sight. It was Eddie, alive and well and looking at Buck like he had never seen such a sight before in his life. 

“Didn’t I make you promise not to save my life?” 


	11. Chapter 11

They were halfway down the mountains before Buck thought about what Eddie had said. He hadn’t had much of a chance to ponder on it in the time between then and now, the whole day it had taken to trek out of Diaz Mountains into nearby ranges. Eddie knew the quickest way to the nearest village, which, unfortunately, wasn’t very quick at all. Eddie and Buck took turns carrying Christopher, though Buck didn’t miss the way Eddie was loathe to let his son go even when his exhaustion had him tripping and stumbling across dangerous terrain. Buck couldn’t say he blamed Eddie. He wasn't sure he would act any differently in Eddie’s shoes. 

When the sun went down, they had had to make camp where they were. Thankfully, the provisions Eddie’s family had packed had taken into account their rough trip. Buck was well-practiced making camp, and so was Eddie. Between the two of them, they had a roaring fire going and a nice place to lay their bed rolls. They all dined on sweet bread and roasted chicken legs. It made their hands sticky, but Buck knew this was the best meals on the road got. 

They hadn’t spoken much, either, since they had left the Diaz Manor. 

“You know, you didn’t technically make me promise not to save your life,” said Buck. 

It was seemingly out of the blue, but in the last couple of hours, he couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie’s greeting. The truth was, if Buck cared enough to acknowledge it, Eddie had never really left his mind since their fateful meeting in Angelsbury. Having Eddie so close and for so long did weird things to Buck’s heart. He was pretty sure it hadn’t beat at a proper, steady tempo since Eddie picked him up off the floor of Diaz Manor. 

“Huh?” said Eddie, staring into the fire, though inclining his head toward Buck to show he was, in fact, paying attention. 

Christopher was asleep between them. They had barely made it out of Diaz Mountains, but the trip thus far had been rough on him. He was exhausted. Kids his age weren’t meant to be running for their lives. Buck felt fury at the idea that the Undergrounders could steal away something so precious. He scooted a little closer to Christopher. 

“If I recall correctly, you never actually told me what it is you do. I figured that out myself, thank you very much.” 

Eddie looked over at him, amused. The firelight danced off the edges of his face. He looked even more handsome than Buck’s memory made him out to be. Buck drew his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, looking back at Eddie. 

“And, if you want to be even more technical, I was saving Christopher’s life, not yours anyway, so...” 

Eddie laughed. It was quiet between them so as to not wake Christopher, but it was unmistakable. 

“You really are the son of the King, aren’t you?” 

Buck winced, looking away from Eddie. He sat a little straighter, though he still hugged his knees to his chest. He didn’t want to think about his father or how much it had hurt seeing him again after so long. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” said Eddie, in the span of the heavy silence that had fallen over them. “And, besides, I don’t exactly do the contract work anymore anyway.” 

Buck bit down on his bottom lip. His heart felt like it was somewhere in his throat. 

“But you did, though. For me.” 

Eddie stared at Buck. His gaze was heavy. Buck tried not to fidget underneath the weight of it. He hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, but he wasn’t exactly sure what the social protocol was regarding an Undergrounder Contract. 

“I went a little crazy,” said Eddie, evenly. “He tried to kill you, Buck. He wanted—_Iycorr_, he wanted to try again, only succeed that time. I could _see _that, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him get his hands on you.” 

“So, what you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” asked Buck. 

It was easier to focus on that part of Eddie’s confession than it was to face the idea that the Undergrounder might have come after him to finish the job the King’s Guards had interrupted. Buck wasn’t sure why that was. He had long since accepted the fact that he and Hen had been doomed until the King’s Guards had showed up. He had mostly accepted the fact that Eddie had killed on behalf of him, too. That was what an Undergrounder did. They honored contracts, except Buck hadn’t taken one out. 

Eddie huffed. If Buck were to look over at him, he knew that Eddie would be smiling that awful smile that made Buck want to melt into a puddle. Just thinking about that smile almost made Buck want to do that anyway. 

“It’s your fault, you know.” 

Buck whipped his head around to meet Eddie’s eyes, indignant and stunned both at once. 

“Mine?” 

“Yes, yours. I was perfectly fine until you broke into my house back in Angelsbury and seduced me.” 

“Seduced you? You kissed me first!” Buck hissed. 

Eddie only grinned wider. He slowly looked Buck up and down, like he was cataloguing every square inch of Buck. 

“Yeah, but you should have seen you there. You were so sure of yourself, and you didn’t even know what you had, and I could have killed you right then and there.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

Eddie shook his head. 

“Couldn’t. Chim had sent you, and that was all I needed to know, and since then, I found myself checking up on you constantly. It was—” 

Eddie stopped abruptly, like the next words were forbidden. 

“Well, it made me feel less lonely.” 

Buck frowned. His heart lurched. He thought of Eddie all alone on the run, unable to go home or to the guild or to anyone he loved, because he would get them killed. Buck knew a thing or two about loneliness. One didn’t grow up on the frozen, icy tundra of his childhood and not know what it was like to be the only living soul around for leagues and leagues. 

“I’m glad.” 

Eddie smiled at him again, and his eyes shined in the firelight, and Buck thought about kissing him, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he would be able to hold himself back if he did. His track record certainly suggested he wouldn’t be able to. And there was Christopher between them to consider. 

“Get some sleep, Buck,” said Eddie. “I’ll take first watch.” 

Buck slept fitfully. He kept reliving the visit to Diaz Manor, only Pepa couldn’t reverse time or Buck didn’t have his dagger on him or Eddie arrived too late. He woke at random intervals, each dream worse than the last, to find that Eddie had drawn Christopher into his lap and was running his hand up and down Buck’s shoulder in a soothing manner that Buck couldn’t remember anyone doing since the First Queen had when Buck was a scared, starving little boy. 

The fire had died down, so there wasn’t much light, but Buck could see Eddie plain as day. Eddie smiled down at him. Buck felt his chest constrict, like the fondness he felt for Eddie was too big for his chest to contain. Buck leaned into Eddie’s hand and closed his eyes to fall asleep again. 

When it was his turn to take watch, Eddie would wake him. 

And Eddie did a few hours later. There was still enough darkness left in the sky that Eddie should be able to get a good bout of rest. Buck helped adjust Christopher, so that he was laying in Buck’s lap instead of Eddie’s. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I know I don’t,” interrupted Buck, softly. “But I also know how uncomfortable these bed rolls are, so just let me, okay?” 

Eddie glanced down at Christopher, who had curled into Buck’s chest in his sleep, seeking out warmth, no matter where it came from. Eddie’s face was partially hidden from Buck, and Buck wasn’t sure what to make out it. A flutter of worry skidded across his heart. People had boundaries. Just because Buck himself had never learned of his own didn’t mean that Eddie didn’t have them or that Eddie didn’t have them for his son. 

But Eddie left Christopher curled up in Buck’s lap, so Buck figured he had won that argument. Eddie lay on his side facing Buck with one arm curled underneath his head. The dying firelight danced off the contours of his face. Buck wanted to kiss him. 

“_Xyzaruna _warned me about a man like you,” said Eddie, softly. 

He was already drifting off to sleep, and Buck didn’t have the heart to keep him awake any longer, so he let the words hang in the air between them as he took over the night watch. 

Eddie was up with the sun when it rose, without a single prod from Buck. Christopher was a little harder to rouse, but the promise of left-over sweet bread for breakfast before they set off was enough to wake him as well. Buck made sure they had packed all of their belongings as they ate. He had scarfed down his own breakfast provision when the first vestiges of daylight began to creep into the night sky. 

They set off in a similar manner as the day before. Eddie carried Christopher. He made it look easy. Perhaps it was practice, or perhaps Buck wasn’t as fit as he thought he was this whole time. 

They set a rapid pace down the mountains. Eddie navigated them like he had a map of them burned into his mind. He had grown up here, and he had fought here in the war, and Buck imagined this was probably where he spent most of his time on the run. It was easier to hide amongst the mountains and forests than it would be further south in the flatlands or the marsh. 

The mountains were scattered with hamlets, much like the passage north into them had been. These were even more remote. Most were composed of a family or two, sometimes three. None of them recognized Buck as their prince, though Buck figured the possibility of being recognized in such a removed location in the Empire was next to nothing. This wasn’t Ghostwood, where everybody knew the story of the King taking pity on those orphaned kids starving to death at the foot of the dry falls. 

More importantly, nobody recognized Eddie, either. They were able to restock supplies, namely provisions, in some of the hamlets they passed. Buck imagined he had more gold in his pocket than most of the people here seen in a year. He paid graciously for their supplies. They may not have realized he was their prince—however shaky Buck’s status in the royal family was at the moment—but they were still his people to take care of. 

Buck and Eddie took turns carrying Christopher over the treacherous terrain of the mountains. Gradually, the mountains became less and less fierce until they were in the foothills once again. Buck estimated, given the direction they had traveled, they were somewhere in the most northwestern part of Calafia or maybe the outer edges of Penyrile. The trees were thick enough here to belong to the Apalchyn Forest in the far eastern reaches of Penyrile. The foothills of the mountains that made up the Backlands clung fiercely to the landscape. 

“Chim said to meet him at the Queen’s Point,” said Buck. 

This was the most substantive statement any of them had made since that first night after they fled Diaz Manor. The trek down the mountains had been exhausting. What energy they weren’t using to navigate the slopes and valleys had been specifically reserved to warn the other about slick spots or fallen limbs or sudden drops. It hadn’t mattered which way they went, as long as it was out of the mountains. 

Eddie stopped. He was panting hard. His face was covered in sweat. He had packed away his doublet the day before, when they had finally left the cooler temperatures of the mountains behind. He was sweating through his leather armor. Buck was, too, but he wasn’t carrying Christopher. 

“That’s, uh—” 

Except Eddie seemed too exhausted to point in a direction that he thought the Queen’s Point might be. Buck thought of the sheen of sweat he had seen on Pepa’s forehead that day in Diaz Manor when she had reversed time, and he thought of the way Sophia’s hands had trembled when she had brought him Christopher and told him to run. He wondered if Eddie’s magic was more exhausting than he let on. 

“A few leagues that direction, I think,” said Buck. 

He pointed toward what he thought was the heart of Calafia, but Christopher reached over and pushed his hand farther west than Buck had estimated. Buck looked up at Eddie questioningly. 

“You sure,_ mijo_?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” said Christopher. 

Eddie nodded his head. He made like he was going to take off walking again, but Buck stopped him. 

“Lemme carry Christopher for a while,” said Buck. 

Christopher went easily to Buck, settling into his arms like he had so many times before during the trip. He was a comforting weight in Buck’s arms, though Buck knew it would only be a matter of time before he, too, tired out. He wondered why Christopher had to use the crutches, but he didn’t dare ask. His father had instilled some manners in him. 

The Queen’s Point was an old fortress from ages past. Once upon a time, the royal family had called it home. That had been eons ago, so long, in fact, that, until recently, the royal family had stopped staffing it. When Buck was growing up as a member of the royal family, they had stayed there at least once or twice every year. It was, after all, the home in which the First Queen was born and in which she was raised. When she had married the King, the fortress fell back into royal possession. 

When it was built ages ago, the Queen’s Point was called the Northern Castle, for it sat on the northern border of what today would be called the province of Calafia, which stood as the northernmost territory the Empire claimed. It was one of the Four Points from where the royal family ruled. Its age rivaled that of the Old Palace, though it had fallen into disuse and into the hands of a second-born heir and passed through the non-ruling line until it was no longer recognized. 

By the time the First Queen was born, the Northern Castle was nothing more than a crumbling tower house surrounded by half-standing stone walls. It stood in the heart of Northern Castletown, which was now a misnomer as the town was hardly big enough to be considered a village. 

Now, the tower house had been repaired diligently over the twenty or so years and regular upkeep had restored the home to its former glory. It stood on the tallest peak of the foothills in Calafia. It was built of smooth, gray stone, like those mined in the nearby quarries. A ghost staff took care of the place, except for when the royal family stayed there. It had been years since the fortress was fully staffed. The King hadn’t been back here since the First Queen had died. 

Buck stared up at the tower house as it loomed over them. He refused to think about how much it hurt being here without his mother or about how much this place reminded him of her and made him miss her even more. 

The tower house looked vacant. It was late in the evening. The villagers took care of the place, but none of them lived on site. That mere fact was why the thieves’ guild had begun commandeering it in times of need. 

“Are you sure this place is deserted?” asked Eddie, looking over at Buck. 

He had Christopher in his arms again, but Christopher was mostly asleep. They had had a long day of travel. Buck was tired enough. He could only imagine how exhausted Christopher had to be. 

“You tell me,” said Buck. He offered Eddie a tired grin. “You’re the one with the fancy magic.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but the hint of a smile in the corners of his lips belied how little he was offended by Buck’s statement. The ghost of relief clouded his eyes. Buck realized then that this whole time they had skirted around the topic of Black Hearts and Eddie being one and his entire family being one, too. Buck didn’t care about any of that. He was grateful for it, even, or else he would have surely died back at Diaz Manor. He probably needed to tell Eddie as much. 

“There’s no one there right now,” Eddie confirmed, “but there has been someone there recently.” 

“Probably Chim,” said Buck, with a shrug. 

He set off walking up the incline toward the back of the fortress. To the average subject of the kingdom, the only way into the fortress was the draw bridge from the village, but Buck knew this place like the back of his hand. He took pride in knowing all of the royal residences. 

“Maybe,” agreed Eddie, but he didn’t sound too convinced. 

He followed Buck toward the fortress anyway, so Buck figured whoever it was that Eddie had picked up on probably wasn’t much of a threat. When they reached the outer walls, Buck counted his steps in a clockwise manner until he came across a slightly uneven set of stones. He reached into the nearly imperceptible crack between the third and fourth highest stones, searching for a lever. He found it and pulled it, and the stones gave way before him. 

He bit back a_ whoop _of joy at triggering the mechanism on his first try. The King may have gotten new heirs to replace him, but he would never take this royal knowledge away from Buck. 

He let Eddie and Christopher into the courtyard before him so that he could latch the hidden entrance shut behind them. Here, they crossed the dry moat. Buck couldn’t remember it ever being filled with water back here. He led Eddie and Christopher up to the guard’s entrance of the tower house. It was locked but no match for Buck’s lock-picks. 

The first thing Buck noticed, upon ushering Eddie and Christopher inside and stepping in after them, was that the air was stale. Buck ran his hand along the wall until he found a torch. He lit it against the fire-trapped stone next to the door. He prayed to _Pernua_, the god of fire, that there was still enough magic in the stone. 

There was. The tip of the torch burst into flame. There was hardly any tinder left on the end of it, but Buck was pretty sure it would suffice for their purposes. The room they stood in was cramped and covered in dust. Nobody had been in here for a very, very long time. Buck refused to think about why that was, because thinking of the First Queen hurt too much. 

Farther into the tower house, dust clung to every corner and crevice. The air was endlessly stale. The villagers kept an eye on the fortress and did a periodic sweep to make sure there were no squatters, but it was obvious that the royal orders to keep the place clean had not been adhered to. Perhaps it was painful for the villagers to enter here after their beloved Queen died. Or perhaps the King himself had ordered nobody to enter beyond checking the locks on the doors. 

The furniture was covered in white sheets. Buck nearly tripped over his own feet once he turned the corner into the drawing room. The furniture his mother had grown up using, the very same the King had painstakingly had restored to his mother’s liking, was left here to rot away. Buck wondered if his father had even thought of this place since his mother had passed. 

“Buck, someone really has been here recently,” said Eddie, quietly. “And I don’t think it was Chim.” 

He was peering up the steps that led to the private quarters of the tower house. Christopher was a heavy weight in his arms, his head resting against Eddie’s shoulder. He was fast asleep. He had been since the hidden door of the tower house came into view. 

“Can you, like, _see _better the closer you are to a place?” asked Buck, absentmindedly. 

He was still half-convinced it was Chim that Eddie was picking up on. Chim had said he would meet them here and that Buck would know when that would be. Buck hadn’t known how long it would take them to get to the Queen’s Point, but he was traveling with Eddie, and Chim had anticipated—or maybe actually known—that Buck would have that advantage. 

“No, Buck, I can see footsteps in the dust on the stairs here,” said Eddie, nodding toward the steps in question. 

Buck walked over to where Eddie was, thoughts of his dead mother and Chim fleeing his mind. Eddie was right. There were footprints in the layer of dust leading upstairs and then back down them, suggesting whoever it was that had been here had not been gone very long. They were too small to belong to Chim. 

Buck peered up the steps where they disappeared into the darkness. 

“I’m going to go check it out.” 

“What if they’re still here?” asked Eddie, like he didn’t have the ability to determine exactly whether there was anyone or not and like he hadn’t already assured Buck that there was no one here right now. 

Buck looked over at Eddie. He wondered how it all worked, how it all felt, to be a Black Heart. Now wasn’t the time to ask. 

“Are they?” 

Eddie hesitated. He sighed. 

“No, I can’t_ see_ anyone or any sign that someone is hiding from me.”’ 

“You can tell if someone is hiding from you?” 

Eddie shrugged. 

“If you know what you’re looking for, you can usually gauge if there is magic around, and then you have to decide if it is residual or active.” 

“Sound complicated,” said Buck, starting for the stairs. 

He was interested in Eddie’s explanation and maybe even in learning more about Black Hearts and how they worked, but Eddie didn’t exactly look excited to discuss them. Buck couldn’t blame him. Pepa had only promised to be able to protect them while they were in Diaz Mountains, and they had left there ages ago. It was up to Eddie alone to shield them now, and while there hadn’t been any sign of any followers, Buck knew the prudence in playing it safe and pretending like everyone was one step ahead. 

Besides, if Buck had anything to say about it, he would have a long, long time to ask Eddie everything there was to know about Black Hearts. 

“Wait—” called Eddie behind him. 

Buck froze, halfway up the steps. He glanced back at Eddie. 

“Lemme put Christopher down, and I’ll go check with you.” 

“Shouldn’t you stay with him?” asked Buck. 

He headed back down the steps anyway. Eddie went to lay Christopher on the closest sofa. 

“Not there,” said Buck, frowning. “It’s horribly uncomfortable. Put him on the one closer to the fireplace. Mother had that restored before she, uh—I mean, the last time we stayed here.” 

It was odd, speaking openly about the years he had spent as a proper prince in the royal family and the memories he had made. He remembered curling up on the sofa next to the fireplace with his head in his mother’s lap and how the queen would run her fingers through his hair while she sung “How the Snow Blows Down the Mountain” in her beautiful, melodious voice. Buck would never forget that song. It was his mother’s favorite, a ballad passed down through her family from mother to daughter, from mother to son. He would never forget how it sounded in her voice. 

Buck made it a habit to never speak of his royal past, especially as a thief and especially now that he had been replaced and that life was long behind him. But there was something different about talking to Eddie. Buck felt like he could tell Eddie anything. More than that, Buck _wanted _to tell Eddie everything. 

Eddie obliged Buck. He laid Christopher down on the covered-sofa next to the fireplace. He placed his hand flat against Christopher’s chest and murmured quietly. Satisfied, he stood up and walked over to Buck. 

“Protection magic,” he explained, at Buck’s questioning look. He hadn’t answered Buck’s earlier inquiry yet. “Not that he needs it. He’s stronger than he looks.” 

Buck looked from Eddie to Christopher and back again. 

“With you as his father? I can’t imagine how he would be anything but.” 

Eddie’s lips tugged into a smile, like Buck’s honest comment had caught him off guard. His eyes grew soft. 

Buck wanted to kiss him. He didn’t. He headed back to the stairs instead. Eddie followed after him, like he would follow Buck anywhere, and Buck had to stop his thoughts right there or he really would kiss Eddie, and this wasn’t the time to get distracted. 

Upstairs, the air was even more musty than it was on the ground level. Buck held the torch as their only source of light. He pushed open the door that led into the solar. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of disuse but entered anyway. It opened to the painfully familiar sitting room, and this room, like the one below, was full of the First Queen’s furniture covered in white sheets. 

Buck wondered what his mother would think about her favorite royal residence rotting away with disuse. The First Queen loved to travel the Empire. She thought it was her duty as their queen to visit as many of the provinces and their subjects as possible, so she had swayed the King into restoring old royal properties. Her most beloved, though, was this tower house, where she had lived her entire life until she married the King and moved into the King’s Palace in Mniagate. 

The floor was covered in a large, red rug. It, too, showed signs of disuse, but the wool of the rug made following footsteps in dust impossible. Buck glanced around the sitting room. The only light available, other than Buck’s torch, was the sunlight that streamed in through the pair of grimy windows on the opposite side of the sitting room. On either side of the room was a set of matching doors. One led to the King and Queen’s private chambers. The other led to the bedchamber Buck had shared with his sister. It was not obvious from the sitting room, but the latter was significantly smaller. 

“Can you, um, pick up anything?” asked Buck, awkwardly. 

He voice was soft in the rotting room. The floor felt firm enough beneath his feet, made of stone as it was, but there was an air of delicacy about the room, like if Buck were to take another step forward, the entire floor would crumble beneath his feet. Maybe it was Buck’s imagination, his hesitance to trod upon that which the First Queen had held so dearly. 

“Whoever it was went through there,” said Eddie. He pointed toward the door of the chamber Buck had shared with his sister. “I don’t think they had magic, and I’m not sure they were a threat, but something feels off.” 

“Something like?” 

Eddie shook his head. There was a frown of disappointment on his lips. 

“I’m not sure I can explain it well, but, sometimes, our presence is so great it leaves an echo long after we’re gone from a place. I think that’s what I’m picking up on.” 

Buck nodded. He had so many questions, but Eddie didn’t seem to understand much more than Buck himself did, so he swallowed them back. He approached the chamber door instead. He tried to ignore how weathered the door looked compared to the smooth grain he remembered from years past. 

Time had taken its toll on this place, and it was no more obvious than in the stark contrasts between the rosy memories Buck had and the reality that was. 

The door gave easily beneath his hand. It opened up to a bed chamber with two beds on opposite sides of the room, both covered in moth-eaten bedding. His sister, Maddie, had claimed the one on the right, because it had the best view of the garden below the tower house, especially in the early summer days when their mother’s beloved colorful flowers were at their prettiest. Buck had loved his sister so much he hadn’t fought her on it, though he had secretly agreed with her. 

Her bed sat undisturbed, evidenced by the fact that the tracks in the dust along the floor cut left to the other bed, Buck’s old one. 

Since the last time Buck had stayed here years ago, someone had made up the bed. They had done it with such care that a prince deserved, but now dust covered the duvet, and moths had chewed through the fine lacework along the edges. There was a fresh indent in the duvet, like someone had sat upon it recently enough dust had yet to regather. 

Buck glanced over his shoulder at Eddie, who had stopped just inside of the chamber. 

“Can you_ see _who it was?” 

Eddie hesitated. He looked so troubled that Buck took that to mean_ yes_. Worry churned in Buck’s stomach. 

“Eddie?” 

“I can’t see for sure,” he said, slowly, “but—do you—the King—the Resilient Princess, was she your blood sister?” 

_The Resilient Princess_. Buck almost cracked a smile, imagining Maddie roll her eyes at the title the King had bestowed upon her the day she married the diplomat’s son and heir, Doug. By tradition, the heir who was not to inherit the throne was bequeathed a title from the monarchy as a symbol that the heir would forever be considered a valuable member of the royal family. It cemented the heir’s right to the Royal Guard’s protection and to reside in a royal estate that was tended by the royal household. 

Maddie’s official title bestowed upon her by the king was to be the Empire’s Princess, as tradition required, but that title had too recently belonged to Princess Brook, the beloved daughter of the King and First Queen who had met a young death as a result of a nasty curse. Maddie refused to take the honor from the sister she never knew. Instead, she requested the King give her a new title for the people to call her, so the King did. 

“She was.” 

Eddie nodded, like he had known as much already. The troubled look didn’t leave his face. The bottom dropped out of Buck’s stomach at Eddie’s next words. 

“I think it’s her, then, that was here.” 


	12. Chapter 12

The moment hung thick between them. Buck shook his head in disbelief. Maddie couldn’t have been here. But Eddie was staring at him, straight in the eyes, like he had never told a truer fact, and Buck knew Eddie wouldn’t lie. Not about something that mattered. Not about this. 

Still. 

“That’s impossible. She lives on the royal estate in the Highlands. She wouldn’t have any business this far north.”

Eddie hesitated. It seemed that was his first response to anything Buck said in this conversation. Maybe on some level Buck understood why. Eddie was weighing his words, choosing them carefully, because this was a delicate conversation. Buck’s sister, the princess, was meant to be safe and secure in her estate leagues away from the run-down ruin of the Queen’s Point, yet here Eddie was telling Buck otherwise. 

“Buck—”

“Just tell me what it is you’re afraid to, Eddie. I can take it,” snapped Buck. 

He felt immediately guilty, but the worried look on Eddie’s face was making his heart beat like crazy in his chest. Eddie knew something that he wasn’t saying, and, by the looks of it, it wasn’t good.

“I think she’s scared,” said Eddie, looking Buck straight in the eye. “I don’t know what of, and I can’t trace her beyond the wards of this place.”

“Wards?”

Eddie smiled. It was strained.

“All the royal properties have them,” he explained. “Gives me a little bit of a headache, sometimes.”

It made sense. Magic wasn’t forbidden in the Empire, not like it was in surrounding kingdoms, but hardly anyone took up the craft and fewer still were born with it. There were still those in the Empire who feared what they didn’t understand, and magic was the hardest of them all to understand, so magic was spoken of in dark corners of half-empty taverns where nobody up to any good could overhear. These days, especially after the war with the magic-wielding Rotlansers, the trust in magic, in people like Eddie, was at an all-time low.

“We have to find her then,” said Buck.

Urgency boiled in his belly. Maddie had no business here, but if what Eddie said was right and she had been here, she was in trouble. Buck knew it. He owed it to her, his big sister and his only remaining blood and his last bit of family, to find her. 

“Buck, we can’t,” said Eddie. 

He sounded strained and so, so sorrowful that Buck wanted to yell at him and insist that _they could_ and that if Eddie didn’t want to help him, he didn’t have to. Buck could do this himself.

But Buck could see the glint of desperation—of fear—in Eddie’s eyes. He saw the way that Eddie reached for him then caught himself at the last second. He saw the way Eddie’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Please,” said Eddie, brokenly, and Buck’s heart hit the floor. “Please, don’t go after her right now. You won’t—you won’t come back to me if you do, and I can’t follow you. Not now.”

Buck swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth. Eddie was serious. He was terrified, and if Eddie was this desperate to convince him to not chase after the only family he had left, Buck probably shouldn’t. Eddie was a Black Heart, after all. He could _see _things Buck couldn’t.

“Okay,” said Buck, nodding. 

It felt like an ultimatum falling from his lips, but by the way the relief shined in Eddie’s eyes, it was a promise. It was the right thing to say. It might have even been the right thing to do.

“I won’t go, but tell me this: is she still alive?”

“I think so,” said Eddie.

“You think?”

Eddie sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted in that moment, and Buck wondered if Eddie always had since he had saved Buck’s life up in Diaz Mountains or if this was a new exhaustion brought down by this conversation.

“I’m not perfect, Buck, and I can't _see _everything, but I have reason to believe that she is still alive and that you will see her sooner rather than later.”

“You have reason? What would that be?” asked Buck.

He knew it was an unfair question as soon as he asked it, but he had to know. There was a part of him that would settle until he did.

Eddie offered him a tight smile.

“That’s not my secret to tell,” he said, and he hurried to continue speaking before Buck could interrupted him. “But I will tell you this: if I thought for a second I was wrong about you seeing her again, I would let you run after her right now, even if that meant you wouldn’t come back to me.”

Eddie meant it, too. Buck could tell by the sincerity in Eddie’s voice and by the glint of regret in Eddie’s eyes when he had refused to spill someone else’s secret. Buck wondered whose it was, but he didn’t ask. He had already been too unfair to Eddie in the past few minutes. Eddie didn’t deserve any more of Buck’s barrages. 

“All right,” said Buck, relenting. 

He took one last glance of his old bed. Maddie had sat here however long ago. This was the closest he had been to his sister in years, since before their mother, the First Queen, had died. 

“We should head back down to Christopher.”

Eddie nodded, agreeing. He turned around and headed for the stairs, calling over his shoulder as he went.

“We should, because Chim is here.”

Downstairs, as promised, was Chim leaning up against the wall next to the fireplace. He looked a little worse for wear than he had days ago. The pack on his shoulder was significantly emptier than it had been when Sophia had shoved it into his hands back in Diaz Mountains. He was entertaining Christopher's questions when Buck and Eddie entered the drawing room. He offered them a tired smile. 

“And that is why they call me Chimney.”

Buck and Eddie groaned simultaneously.

“Really, Chim? You had to tell that story to my son?”

“I knew anyway, Dad,” said Christopher, grinning over at Eddie. “I just wanted to hear him tell the story.”

Chim smirked at Eddie, who artfully ignored him. Eddie sat down on the sofa next to Christopher. He placed his hand on Christopher’s chest again and murmured a few words. He helped Christopher sit up.

“There, you should be good now, Chim.”

“Nothing like fighting the desire to claw my own eyes out,” said Chim, cheerfully despite what Buck assumed was a serious statement. 

Chim sat down in one of the sheet-covered arm chairs. Only Buck remained standing, still at the foot of the stairs, and he intended to remain that way. He didn’t care to sit on the ruins of years past, not when he could still see his mother in every square inch of this place already.

“What’s the plan from here on out?” asked Buck.

Nobody answered him at first. Chim eyed Eddie questioningly. An age old silent conversation passed between them. It was the kind that Chim had with Hen, the kind bred over years of comradery. At the end of it, Eddie nodded.

“It’s safe as we can get,” he said out loud, probably for Buck’s benefit. “I’ve been trying to cloak us, but, here, I’m drawing on the wards already in place, so we should be safe to talk.”

Chim leaned back in the arm chair. It creaked with him, but he ignored it. He stared lazily at Eddie, and Buck didn’t have to have a long, sordid history with Chim to know that expression. He had been on the receiving end of it often enough. 

“Good, because I’ve got a bone or two to pick with you, _Diaz_.” 

Eddie sighed, but he said nothing. He was unsurprised. Maybe he had been expecting this conversation since Chim came to Diaz Mountains. Or maybe since Chim had sent Buck to Angelsbury. Or maybe even longer than that. Maybe he had been expecting this conversation for years, ever since he left the guild.

“Like the fact that you left with no notice and no note to say where you were going or when you would be coming back.”

Buck winced on Eddie’s behalf and sat down on the steps behind him, knowing that it was going to get his butt dirty from all of the dust. He didn’t care. Better to sit here than on the sofa he had sat with his mother. 

“You could have been dead for all I knew, and you didn’t have the decency to give me a heads-up that you were bailing on us.”

“You weren’t the guildmaster back then. I didn’t have to tell you.”

“Like hell you didn’t—you were my friend, and I thought I was yours.”

Eddie didn’t have a smart come back for that. He bit his lips together, and his straight-laced face wavered, like maybe what Chim was saying was nothing he hadn’t thought himself before. Buck felt sorry Eddie, and he felt sorry for Chim, too, but he knew better than to try to step in between them. 

This conversation had been years in the making.

“You strut around like you’re this lone wolf who doesn't need anybody, but then you leave your son in the care of your family and you go on the run and you send Hen and me and Buck amulets to protect us from danger and you execute a contract on the man who tried to kill Buck! You can’t do it all.”

“I won’t let you die for me. I won’t let anyone.”

“I’m not asking to die for you. I’m asking you let us help you stay alive.”

Eddie shook his head. He looked away, toward Buck, and Buck could see the way Eddie’s bottom lip quivered. It broke Buck’s heart, because he could see how lonely and _scared_ Eddie had been all this time, on the run from his family and everyone he loved, desperate to keep them from dying.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“We’re stronger in numbers.”

“Nobody is stronger than them, no matter how many.”

“Really? Then how come Buck and Hen made it out of Mniagate?”

Eddie curled his hands into fists in his lap, and Buck knew he was thinking of the Undergrounder who had nearly killed Buck. Buck wondered how much Eddie knew or, rather, _saw_ of his and Hen’s encounter with the Undergrounders. He had _seen_ enough to know that one had nearly killed Buck, at least, but Buck suspected that maybe Eddie had kept an eye on him from the moment he left that inn room in Iy’s Landing.

“That’s different. The King’s Guard saved them.”

Chim inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of Eddie’s statement, but there was a dubious expression on his face that suggested Eddie missed the point entirely.

“As I understand it, Hen and Buck did a pretty good job of defending themselves in the beginning, and then, yes, the King’s Guard made a timely entrance, but that just proves my point. Imagine if I had only sent Hen to Iy’s Landing and the Undergrounders followed her back. Or Buck.”

The blood drained from Eddie’s face. He whipped around to stare wide-eyed at Chim. It was finally dawning on him why Chim was so insistent that Eddie would be safer if he let people, namely the guild, help him.

“You don’t have to this alone. Let us help you.”

Eddie hesitated. He glanced at Buck again, as if he needed to make sure that Buck was still here and not at the mercy of the Undergrounders like Chim had propositioned. And Buck knew that, despite the fact that Chim and Eddie had issues they needed to work out, he needed to step in. He needed to cement Eddie’s faith in Chim’s plan for the guild to help Eddie.

“Please, Eddie. I can’t—I don’t want you to die, and if you don’t let us help you, we’re going to anyway. Or at least I am.”

“And he will,” said Chim, with a grin. “Buck’s terrible at listening to orders.”

The corners of Eddie’s lips tugged into the briefest of smiles. He had figured out for himself how terrible Buck was at taking orders he didn’t believe in. Buck had gone off to Diaz Mountains after him, despite Eddie’s plea that Buck not try to save his life.

“I don’t want you to get killed,” said Eddie, looking Buck straight in the eyes. He sighed. He glanced at Chim. “Any of you, and you will die if you try to save me.”

“Give us a little credit, Eddie,” said Chim. “We’re thieves. Pulling off impossible odds is kind of our thing.”

Eddie sighed again. He sat back against the sofa. It seemed like he was out of arguments. Next to him, Christopher was curled up, watching the conversation play out before him through heavy eyes. The trip down the mountains had been rough, and sleeping against Eddie’s shoulder couldn't have been very restful. 

Eddie ran his hand up and down Christopher’s side in a soothing manner all parents are known for. It reminded Buck painfully of the First Queen, but underneath the hurt, Buck smiled to himself. If Eddie was half the parent the First Queen was—and Buck knew for sure he was up there with the First Queen—he was a good father. Christopher was a lucky child. He never had to know the lingering pain of an empty belly for weeks, sometimes months, at a time or shacks so icy the wood froze in the stove and refused to light.

Buck had already sworn upon _Adiara_ that he would keep Christopher alive, but he vowed to himself that, if he survived this despite the odds and Eddie let him, he would make sure Christopher never wanted for anything in his life, that he was safe and happy and loved. 

It was a sobering vow. Buck had seldom thought of anyone who wasn’t himself or family. He had spent too many years fending for himself and then more years than that navigating the pressures and expectations of royalty. He had never let himself think about the future, about who he would choose to spend it with, or about who he would choose to protect. 

As a prince, he expected an arranged marriage, especially after Maddie had been allowed to marry Doug. She got to be happy with the one she loved, so Buck didn’t care if he did. He would marry the daughter of a foreign diplomat and inherit the throne and serve the Empire like his father had taught him. He would find a way to make that work, because he owed his entire being to the King and the First Queen for saving him and loving him. 

But now, things had changed. The First Queen was dead. The King had remarried the first woman to come along, and she had heirs he could pass the throne to—heirs that didn’t run with thieves or shun the King or miss the First Queen so much they couldn’t stand the idea of a crown being placed upon their heads. The First Queen was dead, and Buck couldn’t be a prince without her. It hurt too much, and the King didn’t care.

“If you’re so good at impossible odds,” said Eddie, “then tell me how I’m supposed to keep this little guy alive.”

Chim whistled through his teeth and shook his head. 

“I’ve been racking my brain since we left the River District,” he said. “I’ve got a few contacts spread out across the Empire and even beyond the borders. They would protect him under the guild’s orders.”

Except Christopher would be all alone in a strange place. Buck knew some of the contacts that Chim was talking about, and while he believed in their loyalty as much as Chim did, he wouldn’t wish a child that fate.

“Without protection, the Undergrounders will be able to track him down, no matter how far we send him,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “I’m not strong enough to protect him for so long and from so far away.”

“Yeah, that was my concerns, too,” said Chim. “That was the best suggestion I had. I mean, we could hide him in the Sewers. It’s not ideal, but right underneath the royal family? No Undergrounder is gonna step foot in there. He’d be safe.”

Eddie hummed, thinking over the proposition. The Sewers were no place for a child, and neither was the thieves’ guild. But Christopher would be safe and close by Eddie. Compared to Chim’s other suggestion, it was leagues better.

“Maybe we could partition off a section for him,” Chim went on to suggest. 

There was a faraway glint in his eyes, like he was working through every kink in the plan. This was what Chim did best. This was why he was the youngest guildmaster in a century.

“Keep him out of the daily bustle of business. Set up something in there to keep him entertained. We’ll have to get some coin together, but there’s a few jobs I’ve been sitting on we could probably go ahead and pull off.”

“If this is going to put the guild in a hard place, maybe we should—”

“Hush,” said Chim, cutting Eddie off. “We already established that you need the guild’s help. Besides, when is the guild not in a hard place? _Eiwoas_ will guide us through. He always does.”

“But to an Heir of _Xyzaruna_?”

Chim shrugged.

“He took a liking to you good enough. Who couldn't look at Christopher and not want to protect him?”

Except this was the gods Chim was talking about, and Buck knew the old stories well enough. His father had made sure he did. He was hesitant to agree with Chim’s nonchalance. Helping the Protector of Death pick a lock or make a quick escape through the shadows of a manor house was one thing. Housing the Heir of _Xyzaruna_ was an entirely different issue. This would require _Eiwoas_ to actively protect one blessed by his enemy, _Xyzaruna_, instead of offering aid in response to a quick prayer. 

_You don’t demand the gods give you their power_, Buck’s father liked to say. _You ask them to lend you their strength._

“I know how to keep Christopher alive and out of the Sewers,” said Buck. 

He swallowed against the lump that rose in his throat. This was a terrible idea. It might not even work, after everything Buck had done. But he had to try. It was Christopher’s best shot—and Eddie’s, too.

Chim and Eddie both turned to look at Buck. For a split second, he wished he had never spoken up at all. This would never work. Buck had already ensured it wouldn’t with the way he had been acting. 

“We’ll take him to my father. He’ll declare him a ward if I ask him to.”

Silence met Buck’s suggestion and hung in the air for a long span of seconds. Eddie stared wide-eyed and opened-mouth at him. He didn’t know everything about Buck, but he was a smart man. He knew enough to have picked up on Buck’s antagonism toward his place in the royal family.

“Buck—are you sure?” asked Chim.

Buck wasn’t sure whether Chim was asking if Buck was sure that the King would declare Christopher his ward or if Buck was sure he wanted to ask his father for help. It didn’t matter. The answer was the same. The King was a bleeding heart. He had proved that with Buck and Maddie. He had proved it hundreds of times over in his rule, too. He wouldn’t turn away a child in need. He wouldn’t tell Buck no, either. He never had, not even now. He had let Buck walk out of the palace and hadn’t called the guards after him, even though he had yelled and pleaded for Buck to come back. 

“Yes,” said Buck, though his heart beat like crazy in his chest and the confirmation tasted like tar on his tongue. “He’ll be safest there, under the protection of the royal family and the wards all royal properties apparently have.”

“You don’t have to do this,” said Eddie, slowly. He glanced briefly at Chim. “We can hide him in the Sewers. That’s still protected by the wards.”

Buck smiled at Eddie. He appreciated what Eddie was doing, the out Eddie was giving him, but Buck had known somewhere in the back of his mind since they had fled Diaz Manor that this was where they were going, that Buck would have to face his father at the end of this and ask for his help. 

“I swore I would protect Christopher to the best of my abilities, and this is what I can offer.” 

Eddie sighed. He looked down at Christopher then back up at Buck. 

“And if the King doesn’t help?”

“He will,” said Buck. He shrugged, glancing around the drawing room of the dilapidated tower house. “And if he doesn’t, well... there’s a lot of things my father needs to answer for, and I might just remind him of them.”


	13. Chapter 13

They slept in the drawing room of the Queen’s Point that night. Buck turned down offers to take one of the sofas and instead spread his bedroll in the floor next to the stairs. The painful memories this place had dredged up had gotten easier to handle the longer he had been here, but he still couldn’t bring himself to sleep on one of the sofas. Eddie and Christopher needed it worse than he, and so did Chim, who had looked more and more exhausted the longer they talked about a tentative plan to get back to the River District.

After they woke the next morning, they dined on the left-over provisions they had between them. It wasn’t much, especially not with the four of them, but they made do. Chim went down into the castle town shortly after dawn. He came back with a pair of well-bred horses and a couple of warm loaves of bread. The food would last them at the better part of the journey south through Calafia. Hopefully, the horses would, too.

They rode in pairs, Buck with Chim and Eddie with Christopher. They didn’t talk much. Above the noise of the horses’ hooves, there wasn’t much to say. They no longer enjoyed the protection the Queen’s Point’s wards, so only Eddie’s sheer will allowed them to travel as unnoticed as possible. Buck kept glancing over his shoulder every league, expecting the might of the Undergrounders to pop over the horizon behind them, giving them chase, but they never did. He jumped at every movement out of the corner of his eyes, certain the Undergrounders were appearing out of nowhere. They didn’t.

For leagues and leagues, as far as the eye could see, it was only Buck and Chim and Eddie and Christopher as they traveled down through the rich farmlands of the heart of Calafia. The air grew steadily warmer, as it had since they left the mountains. The sun moved lazily across the clear blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, but the weather in Calafia was said to be the prettiest out of the entire Empire. Today was proving the rumors true.

They made camp just off the road when night fell upon them. Buck bedded down the horses while Eddie got a small fire going. They had found a small wooded area near a pond, which provided shelter from the light breeze that had picked up since the sun went down. The pond was abundant with freshwater fish. Chim, a native of the River District, knew all the tricks to catching a good fish. He made a rod out of a pliable stick and a bit of string that had been packed away in the sack of provisions Sophia had given him back in Diaz Manor.

By the time the horses were taken care of and the fire was burning brightly and the bedrolls were laid out, Chim had caught a good mess of fish for their supper. They cooked well on a spit above the fire. They tasted even better with the leftover bread from Northern Castletown.

Buck slept well that night, despite the fact they slept beneath the stars. He took the last watch, so Chim woke him well before daylight. He sat awake, poking at the dying fire and ignoring the flutter of worry in his stomach at what he had to do once they got back to the River District in a few days. He didn’t look forward to seeing his father, especially not after the way he had stormed out like a petulant child the last time.

Eddie shifted in his sleep, turning over to face Buck. His hand flopped to the ground, his arm curling over Christopher, and his fingers were extended like he was reaching for Buck. It was a crazy thought. Eddie was fast asleep. He was in no control of his limbs.

Buck sighed softly to himself. He sat back against the tree behind him and resisted the urge to lay his hand atop Eddie’s. He wasn’t some love struck teenager reading too much into nothing and unable to control himself. He was a grown adult.

Except.

It had been too long since Buck had touched Eddie. They hadn’t had any alone time together since Iy’s Landing. It had been a long time since Buck had gone through his phase of craving another warm body like he needed the air in his lungs. Back then, a one-point-oh version of Buck took whatever form of touch another was willing to give him—and as the prince of the people, they were willing to give him anything he asked for—but Buck had grown up a lot since then. He had matured. He had endured his father’s countless lectures, and he had, most terribly, seen the toll it had taken on his mother, and it hadn’t taken too long for him to figure out that just because another body was warm didn’t mean their touch wouldn’t be cold.

His lovers back then had wanted him for his status, for the crown on his head, for the money in his coffers, or maybe just to say they fucked the prince. Every touch was emptier than the last, and his mother’s anguish grew each time another stranger snuck out of the palace. Then his mother had gotten hurt, and she was dying, and Buck vowed to himself that he would never cause his mother sorrow again. Unfortunately, she hadn’t lived to see it.

Over the time that had passed since then, Buck had slipped up some and fallen into bed with a warm body. For a time, they made him feel whole, but it never lasted—not until Eddie. Buck could still feel the heat of Eddie’s touch from the first time there in Angelsbury. He could still remember the taste of Eddie’s lips against his own.

Buck gently laid his hand atop Eddie’s, and Eddie shifted once more in his sleep to turn his hand over and press his palm against Buck’s.

When the sun rose, they took off again. They traveled hard, hoping to get as close as they could to Kingsmarsh before nightfall stopped them once more. They couldn’t waste any time. The longer it took for them to make it back to the River District, the more they tried their luck. Eddie was already starting to tire out from holding whatever magic protections he had set up for them. His face pale, and his forehead had a constant sheen of sweat.

Halfway through the cross into the swamplands of southern Calafia, Eddie collapsed.

“Dad!” Christopher cried.

Chim pulled back on the reins of the horse. Buck leapt off before it stopped, hitting the marshy ground beneath him with enough force to shake his knees. He was going to feel that later, but now all that mattered was Eddie.

Eddie laid on his back. His eyes were closed. His breath was shallow. Buck fell to his knees and reached for his pulse point on his neck. It was weak. Buck felt a tremble of fear across his entire body.

Chim dropped into the mud on the other side of Eddie. He started digging into one of the pockets of his armor. Christopher remained on the horse he had shared with Eddie. That horse and the other were tied to nearby trees so they wouldn’t get away. Buck faintly thought he should get Christopher down from it, but he couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure that if he stood over Eddie passed out in the mud that he wouldn’t fall straight back down next to him.

“He’s magically exhausted,” said Chim.

Buck had guessed as much. He had seen the way Eddie’s hands shook around the reins and how it had gotten worse with every league they traveled. He cursed at himself. He should have made them stop leagues ago. They should have come up with a better solution than relying solely on Eddie.

Chim produced a vial full of clear liquid. It was half empty. He uncorked it then spread Eddie’s lips and poured the elixir into Eddie’s mouth. When it was empty, he sat it aside. He massaged Eddie’s throat in an effort to help him swallow the elixir.

“Thank _Enone_ for Hen, right?” muttered Chim, grinning up at Buck.

Below them, on the ground, Eddie blinked open his eyes. They were bloodshot. He peered weakly up at them.

“Eddie, you back with us?” asked Chim, softly.

He and Buck helped Eddie set up. Eddie leaned heavily against Buck, and Buck could feel the way his body tremored. He tightened his hold around Eddie. He had never witnessed magical exhaustion before, though his father’s knights liked to tell stories of the mages on the front line of the war and how the more powerful they were, the harder they fell.

Buck knew Eddie was powerful. The entire Diaz family was, judging by the skirmish with the Undergrounders back Diaz Manor and how it seemed, thus far at least, that none of the Undergrounders had followed Chim or Buck and the others out of the mountains. It worried him to see Eddie so weak.

“I thought I could make it,” murmured Eddie.

Buck dropped his head against the side of Eddie’s, resting his forehead there. He almost wanted to slap Eddie for being so careless, but he didn’t want to hurt Eddie—he didn’t take joy out of hurting anyone—so he muttered a few profanities under his breath to appease the anger rising in his chest.

“How long, Eddie?” demanded Buck.

Eddie hesitated. Buck could tell by the way Eddie’s body went tense that Buck wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Since we left the mountains.”

Buck muttered a few more of his favorite profanities, some that would make his father grit his teeth. Chim sat back on his haunches and shook his head at Eddie. At least Buck wasn’t the only one disappointed with him.

“We could have made other arrangements,” said Chim. “Traveled separately. Used potions. Something.”

“It wouldn’t have been good enough,” said Eddie.

“Better than you killing yourself,” snapped Chim. He narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “_Gothawens_, Eddie. I thought that’s why you wore the amulet. I mean, what’s the point in having it if you don’t use it?”

Eddie shook his head, frowning weakly at Chim. Buck realized then that Eddie’s neck was bare. He wasn’t wearing the Amulet of _Xyzaruna_, and Buck couldn’t remember if Eddie had had it on him at any point down the mountains. He had a passing question of where in Oblivion the amulet was.

Chim sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood. He looked more tired than Buck had ever seen him. This trip hadn’t been easy on any of them, but Chim had had to make his own way out of the mountains.

“It’s right where it needs to be.”

“It isn’t around your neck,” said Chim. He dropped his voice. “And I know Christopher doesn’t have it. I also know you're not stupid enough to leave it lying around unguarded.”

“It’s better where it is. Trust me,” said Eddie, and maybe he meant his statement to be forceful, but, as weak as he was, it came out more like a plea.

Buck ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back in a soothing manner. Silently, he agreed with Chim that Eddie was stupid to not wear the amulet if it would have protected him from killing himself from magical exhaustion. He kept his opinion to himself, because Eddie was weak, and Chim had already made his point. Eddie didn’t need both of them ganging up on him.

Chim grimaced. He stared intensely at Eddie like he wanted to say more, but, after a couple of seconds, he sighed and nodded his head. He placed his hands on the ground to push himself up. He glanced around at the swamp around them, eyeing the thicket down the road ahead of them. 

“Let’s make camp here,” he said. “We wouldn’t be able to go much farther tonight anyway.”

Except the sun had not yet set, and, even in the thicket, they would have had enough daylight to have traveled for a league more at least. Buck knew that, and Eddie probably did, too. Neither argued. Chim walked over to help Christopher down from the horse then started setting the horses up for the night.

Christopher, leaning heavily on his crutches, walked over to Eddie and Buck on the ground. He sat down next to Eddie and leaned against him. Eddie wrapped his arm around Christopher and drew Christopher to his chest. Eddie’s face was still pale. His brow was still sweaty. His eye were still weak. But, holding Christopher, color started to trickle back into his cheeks.

Buck didn’t want to leave Chim to do everything, so he dragged their packs over to Eddie and wedged them against his back so he would have something to lean against. Eddie smiled up at him, a clear _thank you_ in his expression, and it warmed Buck all over. Buck patted Eddie’s shoulder then set off to scrounge up some dry wood for a cook fire.

The sun rose early the next morning. Chim broke camp by the light of the first rays of the sun peaking over the far east horizon of farmland while Buck went off in search of wetland wild berries. The red ones were his favorite, but it was still early for them to be ripe. He searched instead for wild grapes from out-of-control vines along the edge of the swamp woodlands. There were plenty to choose from, along with a few stalks loaded with small berries, and Buck gathered all the good ones up in a pair of drawstring pouches.

This far south in Calafia, the land was dominated by vineyards. The marshy soil provided rich nutrients to Calafian-native grapes, and the farmers here grew the best grapes for Calafian Dry Wine. Buck still preferred the honey mead of the River District, but he could appreciate the work that went to the magnificent, sprawling vineyards. He appreciated them even more in times like this when the wild vines were heavy with berries ripe for the picking.

Buck returned soon with a pouch full of ripe grapes and small berries. Chim had everything loaded on the horses. He was helping Christopher onto one of them. Eddie, who looked in better health than he had the night before, stood leaned against a tree with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face.

“Buck, tell Eddie to get on the other horse,” said Chim, not even bothering to turn around to address Buck properly. He was too busy making sure Christopher was secure atop the horse next to him. “He’ll listen to you.”

“I am perfectly capable of riding with my son.”

“Eh,” said Chim, shrugging. He tightened the last strap for Christopher. “I thought you were perfectly capable of making rash adult decisions, but you falling off your horse yesterday because you had been carelessly exhausting your magic reserves makes me question that.”

“Chim—”

“I think you should probably let Chim win this round,” said Buck, quietly.

He didn’t like getting in between Chim and Eddie’s arguments, but he didn’t like the idea of Eddie falling off a horse again because he passed out. At least if someone rode with him, they would be able to keep him in the saddle long enough to stop and get him down easily.

“He will be insufferable if you don’t.”

Eddie glared over at Buck, clearly unhappy that Buck was taking Chim’s side.

“He’s already insufferable.”

Buck nodded.

“He is that.”

He threw a handful of ripe berries into his mouth and walked over to offer Eddie the pouch. They would eat on the go, and Buck still had a pouch full of berries tied to his belt.

“Gimme that,” said Chim, snatching the pouch full of berries from Eddie’s hand. “Christopher and I need breakfast, too.”

Buck looked between Eddie and Chim. Eddie looked far less put out about the idea of letting Chim win their argument than he had a moment prior. Still, Buck was apprehensive. Nothing was ever simple with Chim, especially not when he was taking on the world and giving orders left and right. Chim may have left Hen in the guildmaster’s shoes, but he hadn’t left behind his authority.

“I’m riding with Eddie?”

Chim grinned.

“I would have thought you would have begged me for the honor.”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“I would have thought you wanted to keep an eye on Eddie.”

Eddie snorted. He walked over to the free horse and climbed on it. Chim held the reins of the other but made no attempt to get on. The grin hadn’t left his face. He was enjoying this way more than he had any right to.

“You forget, Buck. I’ve been keeping an eye on you this whole trip. Now, I can watch the both of you with no trouble.”

Eddie held out his hand to Buck, smiling down at him, and Buck was taken aback by how handsome he looked atop the horse in the early morning light. Buck wondered, vaguely as he took Eddie’s hand to climb up behind him, whether Eddie would ever stop catching Buck off-guard with how handsome he was.

Progress was slow through the wetlands of Kingsmarsh. They had left the swampland a couple leagues before the border and, instead, the road cut through marshland. The horses’ hooves clattered across the cobblestoned road, but it had rained since Buck and Chim had last been in Kingsmarsh. By Buck’s estimate, the rain wasn’t much of a distant memory.

It took most of the day to reach Hart, though it should have taken only half that. The horses were tired. Chim went off to find a replacement pair but came back with news that a supply carriage would leave for the River District at first light.

They stayed in the inn that night, with Chim purchasing a private room from the barmaid and a warm supper of stew and fresh bread. They dined in the room, hidden away from others. It was the best meal Buck had had in a long time, even better than the fish Chim had caught back in the middle of Calafia.

The inn had a pair of straw beds, and they all took turns sleeping, except for Christopher, who slept through the night. A week or so of travel across the open road had instilled a necessary routine that none were eager to part with tonight, despite the relative safety and anonymity of the inn. Buck, Eddie, and Chim took turns keeping watch until morning was near to dawn. Then they all slipped out under the cover of darkness to the south gate where the supply carriage awaited them.

Eddie had borrowed Chim’s hood. He wore it far down his face and cuddled Christopher into his chest. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position for either of them, but after Eddie’s fainting spell a couple of days prior, they couldn’t afford to take a chance that the Undergrounders hadn’t picked up on their location. Eddie, when pressed, couldn’t say for sure whether his magic had failed then or not.

Like the journey upward through Kingsmarsh, the carriage ride back toward the River District offered little more for sight than wetlands and a cycle of patches and fields of the water-hungry crops the province was known for. The rain that had fallen since Buck and Chim had last been here had left puddles on the cobblestoned road. It had also weakened areas where the carriage wheel sank in and had to be lifted out by the sparse passengers, Buck and Chim amongst them.

Buck was covered in mud and filth by the time the carriage made the treacherous crossing of the Great River into the River Province. He washed himself best he could in the cold river water before climbing back into the carriage. Here, the land was solid. Whatever rain had blown through the wetlands and torn them up had little aftereffects the farther the carriage traveled from the Great River.

The road down to the Station cut away from the Great River and ran through the heart of the province, connecting the southern villages and hamlets to it. It wasn’t the closest road to the capital hold, but it was the widest. The road that followed the curve of the river was sometimes too narrow for carriages like the one they rode.

The southern half of the River province sported a mixture of livestock and flax farms. Cattle roamed the fields. Horses, some domesticated and others wild, trampled across the lowlands. Some farmers even kept pigs hemmed in square fences. Others let chickens scratch around in front of their farm houses. The River Province was not the central hub of livestock in the Empire, but it provided most of the local market with meat, fur, and milk.

Buck tapped his foot in time with the rattling of the carriage wheels. The closer they got to the Station, the more nervous he was becoming. He half expected every squad of knights they passed to stop the carriage, seize him, and march him straight back to the King.

Nobody looked at him twice.

Buck wasn’t sure what he expected to happen once they stepped foot in the River District. The plan was for Chim and Eddie to high-tail it to the Sewers. Buck was to take Christopher to the King and beg for the King’s mercy. Personally, Buck wondered if he should beg for the gods’ mercies instead.

Despite the gut-feeling he had the King wouldn’t turn him away, Buck felt less confident about it as the first hints of the Station came into view. He had said some cruel and unfair things to the King the last time they had spoken. He had said them knowing—_hoping_—they would hurt. Worse, perhaps, was that he hadn’t been much kinder to the New Queen when she had finally tried to reach out to him.

Buck’s mother, the First Queen, would be so disappointed in him. Guilt churned in his stomach. For as much as the King had hurt him by moving on so quickly after the First Queen’s death and finding a new family to replace Buck, the King was still the man who had saved Buck from starving to death in that gods-forsaken tundra. He was still the man who had taken Buck in and cared for him and provided him with a home. He was still Buck’s father.

Maybe it was time to make peace with the First Queen’s death, and the loss of his family, and the life he could have had. Buck wasn’t the same scared, dying kid he was when the King rescued him. He had grown since then. He had found a new family, one beyond the veil of royalty, and he was satisfied with his life. He made good coin doing something he enjoyed.

More than that, he had found Eddie. He knew in his heart that had the First Queen not died and had the King not been so eager to replace Buck, he would have never met Eddie otherwise. Eddie, in turn, would have never met Buck, and if not for that, he may still be on the run right now, cut off from his son, and half of a mistake away from death.

Eddie laid his hand on Buck’s knee. Buck jumped. He had gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he had forgotten where he was and what they were doing. The Station was unfolding before them, coming closer and closer into view. Eddie rubbed circles with his thumb against the side of Buck’s knee. It was grounding in all of the ways nothing else had ever been.

“Everything will work out,” said Eddie, softly above the clack of the wheels.

“Are you just being nice, or can you actually _see_ that it will be?”

It was an unfair question. Buck wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to it. But it didn’t matter. Eddie’s only answer was a smile. Buck sighed.

“My father and I, we don’t—I mean, we haven’t been getting along lately, and I said some pretty mean things to him last time.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at Buck.

“And to his wife.”

He raised them even higher.

“And about his gods.”

Eddie waited, like he was afraid Buck might have said something mean to someone else or about someone else, but Buck had already listed off the most important things to the King. He was a terrible prince. He was an even worse son.

“He’s your father, Buck.”

Buck shrugged.

“But he isn’t, not really,” he said.

It was one of the few times in his life he had ever admitted as much out loud, even though the entire Empire knew the King had taken him in and adopted him. It was different, the Empire knowing it and Buck saying it out loud. For Buck, the only father he ever had was the King.

The man who had loved his birth mother had gotten himself tangled up in some risky business ventures in Derry, a village at the southern tip of Ghostwood where it bordered the Backlands and Penyrile. He was killed in a riot there, the Dolphin Festival Massacre, and his young pregnant wife, along with their infant daughter, fled with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Buck’s mother had settled in Buckley Falls. To the Northerners, especially those native to Ghostwood, it was the End of the World. There was nothing beyond it except an enormous, unscaleable rock wall and the trickle of water that fell down it.

Until the King, Buck had never known a father. He had hardly known a mother, for his own birth mother worked so hard to keep food in his and his sister’s bellies and wood in their fire that Buck shifted from neighbor to neighbor until there was no one left. The King had found him three weeks after his mother had died and two weeks after the last resident of Buckley Falls had cut their luck, packed what they could carry across the frozen tundra, and migrated south.

The King had been on a hunting expedition, but, even all of these years later, Buck wasn’t sure what led the King so far astray from the plentiful forests along the western foothills of the Backlands. Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Questioning his one stroke of good luck, his one blessing from _Enone_, was a sobering venture. Without the King, Buck would be dead.

“He is, Buck,” insisted Eddie. “He gave you his name and his titles and everything he was. Family isn’t blood. Family is what you make of it.”

Buck sighed.

“I wouldn’t stop loving Christopher just because he threw a fit at me.”

“I didn’t throw a _fit _at the king,” muttered Buck.

He started to fold his arms across his chest but caught himself at the last second, realizing such a thing would only serve to prove Eddie’s point. Eddie grinned at him like he knew what Buck had almost done. Buck’s cheeks heated.

“I’m just saying. Your father still loves you, because that’s what fathers do.”

Buck chewed on his bottom lip. They had passed the first guard post. There were two more between it and the gate, and the carriage was barreling along at a steady speed. Buck considered whether it was too late to bail off.

It probably was.

“You don’t know what I said to him,” said Buck. “Or you do, and you’re just too nice to admit that you spied on me.”

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling.

“I told you once that you intrigue me like no other, and I still stand by it,” he said. His voice was so fond that Buck wanted to kiss him. “But I happen to know your father placed a bounty for your safe return and then didn’t reinstate it after you left.”

“Because he was glad to get rid of me.”

“Because he was respecting your wishes to leave.”

Buck mulled it over. He had spent most of the trip up to Diaz Mountains fearful his father had sent his men to drag him kicking and screaming back to the River District. When he had realized the King hadn’t, Buck had been eager to think the worst. He hadn’t considered an alternative.

“He has a new family now.”

“So do you. Or are the thieves not the tight-knit group I remember?”

Buck sighed again. He was quickly become frustrated with the fact that Eddie had a response to everything he said and that Eddie was making good points Buck didn’t want to consider. Perhaps it was his frustration that loosened his tongue. Or perhaps it was just that he was talking to Eddie, and they were relatively private. Christopher was asleep in Eddie’s arms. Chim was dozing off next to Buck, and the other passengers were seated on the other side of the supply crates, happily carrying on their own conversations and oblivious to the fact that their prince was on the same carriage as them.

“He replaced me.”

The smile fell from Eddie’s lips. His face grew serious.

“Buck—”

“He did, okay? And no amount of you justifying it changes the fact that my mother died, and he moved on to a new family with built-in heirs who didn’t give him trouble. Face it. He was eager to get rid of me.”

Eddie frowned at Buck. His eyes were full of pity, and Buck didn’t need his pity. Buck didn’t need anyone’s pity. He knew he was a bit much at times, that he ran with the thieves because it gave him a thrill, that he brought trouble to the crown for his associations. He knew this. He had fought with his father tooth-and-nail until his father had finally given in and gave him an ultimatum: Buck could run with his thieves as long as he didn’t steal from royalty and he never ran his jobs in the royal citadels.

Buck always got what he wanted. He fought for it until he forced people to give it to him. He didn’t take no for an answer. It was part of the reason Chim gave him half the jobs he got. It was part of the reason, too, that Chim had dragged him along to Diaz Mountains. Chim had known that Buck would go, regardless of what Chim had to say about it.

Princes weren’t meant to cause ruckus. They weren’t meant to upset the order or steal from thankless noblemen who made their fortunes on the blood, sweat, and tears of the starving peasants. They weren’t meant to disobey the King’s direct command.

“I think you should talk to your father about this, Buck.”

“I have.”

“I mean really talk to him. Don’t just assume the worst and put words in his mouth.”

“Why do you think I’m the one in the wrong here?”

Eddie squeezed Buck’s knee. It was a comforting gesture.

“I’m not saying you are,” said Eddie, carefully. “But—I don’t know if you realize everything your father does for you.”

“What? Are you his champion, or something?” asked Buck, harshly.

He was too frustrated with this conversation that he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for taking it out on Eddie, even though he knew on some level that Eddie didn’t deserve his cruelty. But Eddie let Buck’s statement roll off him like it was nothing.

“He gave his knights standing orders to patrol the roadways you thieves like to travel so that if you are ever in danger, they are required to jump in and protect you. He relocated his entire court to the Old Palace to extend royal protection to you in the Sewers. He rewrote the succession laws to make sure you inherit his throne.”

“He married a new queen,” said Buck. “That was when the law got rewritten. I don't have the blood of kings, but her children now have the blood of queens.”

“No, Buck,” said Eddie, seriously. “He cemented your place in line to the throne before he ever married the New Queen. Didn’t he tell you?”

Buck bit his lip and looked away.

“It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve spoken with my father,” he admitted.

Eddie nodded. Buck felt it more than saw it. He thought about what Eddie was saying, but it didn’t make sense. The King had never said. He had never decreed it, either, but Buck knew there were certain laws the King held close to his chest, and if any were to fall in that category, it might be something like this.

“How d’you know all that anyway?” he asked.

Eddie bumped his shoulder against Buck’s the best he could without jostling Christopher awake. Buck looked over at him. Eddie offered his signature knock-the-breath-out-a-person's-lungs smile.

“I’m a Black Heart. I can _see_ it—even kings have their secrets.”


	14. Chapter 14

The carriage let them out at the front gate of the citadel. Eddie and Christopher said their quick goodbyes then Eddie and Chim were gone. They couldn’t afford to tarry in the citadel, not when there were so many pairs of eyes. The thieves had done their work to keep the Undergrounders out of the Station, and the Royal Guard had, too, but Undergrounders had contacts in every major hold in the Empire. The Station was no exception.

Christopher was a heavy weight in Buck’s arms, but he was also a comforting reminder of what Buck had to do. Buck wasn’t facing his father for himself. If he were, he might never see the King again. He was facing his father, because it was the best thing for Christopher. He had taken_ Adiara’s_ oath to protect him. The truth was, though, that Buck would have done this regardless. He was gone for Christopher from the very first moment he had found out Eddie had a kid.

He strolled along the streets of the River District. Christopher’s crutches swung against his leg with every other step. It had been the only thing Buck had brought with them. Everything else from their trip, Chim and Eddie had taken with them to the Sewers.

Christopher was awake but quiet, peering around at the River District in awe. Buck smiled to himself. He, too, had fallen in love with this citadel the first time he had laid eyes on it. There was something about the way the buildings hunkered low to the ground that made it feel welcoming, like this was a place for anyone to find a home.

“You scared, buddy?” he asked, quietly.

They, or rather Buck, had drawn the attention of the patrolling guards. The guards stood at attention as he passed. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep his composure. He wasn’t sure he deserved their respect as a prince, especially considering how he had last spoken to both the King and the New Queen and especially if Eddie was right. But the guards were not privy to the Royal Family’s private life, at least these particular ones weren’t, so they likely did not suspect the discord that had arisen between the King and the prince.

“No,” answered Christopher. He smiled up at Buck, and, _Eiwoas_, if he didn’t have his father’s smile. “I’m with you.”

Buck nodded, smiling, too.

“Yes, you are, and I want you to know that my father will take very good care of you. He’ll watch over you and protect you and keep you safe until your dad and me can come back to get you, okay?”

“Okay, Buck,” said Christopher.

If he was anxious about being set off on strangers, he didn’t show it. Ever since they had left the Queen’s Point, Eddie had been trying to explain to Christopher what was going to happen to him. The King would take Christopher under his wing at Buck’s request, and Christopher would see Eddie when everything was safe again—and then Eddie never had to leave Christopher again. It seemed, by the ease of Christopher’s small body in Buck’s arms, that Eddie had done a good job preparing Christopher for what was to come.

At the gatehouse before the palace, Thomas awaited them. He stood at attention and watched Buck come to a stop before him. He barely spared Christopher a second glance. His face was blank. He was well-trained and even more used to Buck’s antics than the average guard.

“Color me surprised, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “Figured the next I saw you, you’d be kickin’ and screamin’ as one of my men drug you back in.”

“Take me to the King.”

“The King is busy.”

“Not for his son,” said Buck, “and that wasn’t a request. It was an order.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Thomas’s lips, but he was too proper to let it show fully. He took a step and flourished his hand, gesturing for Buck to enter the gatehouse.

“My pleasure, Your Royal Highness.”

Buck resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the second reminder of his title. Thomas had been there when Buck had stormed off from his father the last time. Maybe he had even heard them yelling at each other. Buck didn’t really care what Thomas thought. He reminded himself that the only reason he was here was because the King was Christopher’s best shot at staying safe.

Like a repeat of the last time Buck was here, Thomas set a steady, hurried pace. A set of guards fell into step all around Buck, the ultimate protection offered to their prince. Buck tightened his hold on Christopher. He had never liked being caged in by the guards. He liked it even less under the circumstances. Christopher was the son of a Black Heart, of an ex-assassin. Magic wasn’t outlawed in the Empire, but it wasn’t trusted either, and, sometimes, it was even exploited.

They followed the stone road as it twisted up through the courtyard to the grand entrance of the palace. The guards on duty recognized Buck instantly. They stood back to let Buck and the others pass without question. It was almost as if they were expecting him. Someone had probably tipped them off that their prince had returned to the River District.

Inside the Entrance Hall, Thomas led them straight ahead through the door to the King’s Court. It opened up first to an antechamber then, through a pair of ornate wooden doors that traditionally stood open, to the Great Hall. It was here that the King threw great balls and hosted diplomats and held grand feasts in celebrations of the gods.

During the Receiving Week, this was the King’s throne room. He sat in here all day and listened to the people’s grievances and offered his sage advice or kingly orders. He never turned anyone away. He never cut any one off.

Now, it stood empty, and the emptiness only served to accentuate how large the hall was. The ceiling was low, like all buildings in the River District, but it was curved and arched. It was held up by ornate columns decorated with reliefs of the gods. The floor was polished river stone, and the long walls of the hall sported floor-to-ceiling windows, now hidden behind heavy purple drapes.

At the end of the hall was another pair of ornate doors. Beyond them was the traditional Throne Room, the place from which the King gave his orders and listened to the advice of his council. Buck’s footsteps echoed in the Great Hall as he followed Thomas to the Throne Room. At the door was another pair of guards, and they, too, recognized their prince.

“You have perfect timing, Your Royal Highness,” said the leftmost guard. “The court is in recess.”

The guards pulled open the doors, and Buck took a deep breath. He adjusted his hold on Christopher, who was heavy in his arms. He held head up high and stepped inside. The door closed behind him the second he was cleared of it.

The King sat glorious upon his throne. There was a tired set of his shoulders that Buck was very familiar with. The King had a hard, long day. Buck knew how that felt.

At first, nobody moved. The King stared at Buck, surprise written unadulterated across his face. He hadn’t expected Buck, which, given the way Buck had stormed last time, that was understandable. Buck, for his part, felt like his feet were stuck to the floor. He didn’t know what he was going to say. For all of his worries on the way here, he hadn’t considered the idea that he would have to speak to the King.

“Buck,” said the King.

His voice was of disbelief, matching his expression. Unlike the last time, the King didn’t stand to greet him. He remained on his throne, staring at Buck like Buck were a ghost of the past.

“I—”

Buck voice’s broke or perhaps his will. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Christopher shifted in his hold to peek at the King then immediately hid his face back in Buck’s neck. 

“I need your help.”

The King stared at him. Silence hung heavy around them. Buck was torn between turning on his heel and running far, far away—this was a mistake—and bearing his teeth until the King agreed, no questions asked. He knew neither of those would happen. He was here to protect Christopher, Eddie’s son, and the King would demand an explanation.

“I’m in trouble,” he said.

It wasn’t an accurate statement, but he didn’t want to drag Eddie’s name into this. He didn’t know how much his father knew of Eddie and his family, but they were a prominent family up in the Backlands. Their manor house had been testament enough to their prestige.

Besides, the King knew all of the old stories of the gods, including that of _Xyzaruna_. He was bound to know her favor of the Backlands and the story of her amulet. If he knew that... well, the King was a smart man.

“Trouble as in?”

“The Undergrounders are after me.”

The King sighed. It wasn’t news to him. Buck wondered, vaguely, how exactly the King had known. Perhaps this was the only reason the King expected to ever see Buck again. Or perhaps he had heard chatter. The King had ears all across the Empire.

“Sir Thomas informed me a couple of them had escaped the day they attacked in Mniagate,” said the King. He glanced at the child in Buck’s arms then met Buck’s eyes. “I’ll double patrol in the citadel. You keep yourself close until this blows over, and my men will take care of the threat.”

Buck shook his head. He appreciated the King’s offer, especially after the bad blood between them, but he owed the King more a story.

“It’s not that simple.”

The corners of the King’s mouth quirked, like he wanted to smile.

“It never is with you.”

The words weren’t a harsh cut at Buck like he deserved. They were teasing, bordering on fond, and Buck felt a pang in his chest. This was the father he remembered. Yet, this was also the father who had abandoned him and moved on with a new family. He tried to summon up the anger that had come so easily the last time they had spoke, but Eddie’s voice echoed in his mind: _He gave you his name and his titles and everything he was_.

“I didn’t come to ask for your protection, not for me at least. I came to ask you if you would take Christopher here in as your ward and protect him—at least until everything blows over.”

The King dropped his gaze back to Christopher. He nodded at the boy.

“Is he—”

“No,” said Buck, anticipating the question. “He’s a son of a friend, and that friend is in trouble, too.”

The King hesitated. It was uncharacteristic of the man who had made making split second decisions—those like marrying the new queen—an art form.

“Not Chim, I suppose, and he doesn’t look like Hen’s son,” said the King, quietly.

It was the closest the King had ever gotten to formally acknowledging Buck’s lifestyle since he and Buck had struck their ultimatum. It was the closest, too, the King had ever gotten to admitting what Buck had long suspected and Eddie had already confirmed: the King was keeping close tabs on him.

“No,” said Buck, shaking his head.

When he didn’t offer anything else, the King sighed. Buck was struck again, in that moment, with how much older the King looked than he had in months past. Maybe it was the lighting of the Throne Room, or maybe it was how the weight of the world sat upon his shoulders, but the King looked even more run down than he had when Buck had seen him last, not even a fortnight ago.

“You know I would do anything for you,” said the King.

Buck bit his lips together. Once upon a time, before the First Queen had died, he would have believed the King. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The King had turned his back on Buck and married the New Queen and claimed new heirs.

However, Eddie had insisted everything wasn’t so black and white, and if Buck trusted Eddie enough to stand up to the Undergrounders for him, he should trust him enough to believe him.

“But just once, I wish you would do something for me.”

Horror crept across Buck’s skin, and disappointment simmered in his belly. He should have known better than to put his trust in the King, who had proven time and time again since the First Queen died how little he actually cared for Buck. The King talked a big talk for a man who disappeared not even moments after the First Queen died and didn’t come back, not even for her funeral, and left Buck alone to grieve his mother.

“Just once?” repeated Buck, scoffing. He felt the familiar tendrils of anger tug at his heart. He welcomed it like an old friend. “Everything, I’ve done for you. Name a time I haven’t.”

“What about the time I agreed to look the other way while you went off and played thief and in exchange you agreed to not steal from royalty.”

Buck cocked his head to the side.

“I’ve upheld my end of the deal.”

“Have you?” demanded the King. “What about your mother’s jewels?”

Buck froze.

“They went missing a few months ago, shortly after my wedding, and word is that a certain prince was seen trespassing in the royal apartments of the King’s Palace.”

That was because Buck technically had been. Or, rather, he had been in the royal apartments of the King’s Palace, but, as a prince, he was allowed to be there, so, really, he hadn’t been trespassing. He had had to go. His mother’s precious, beloved jewels were there, unguarded, and he wasn’t about to let the New Queen, a stranger, take the last thing of the First Queen that had gone untouched. She had taken the First Queen’s titles and her place in the King’s bed and all of her cherished palaces. Buck wouldn’t let her take the jewels, too.

He had conned Hen into helping him, offering to do thrice the runs up into the Pass as he usually would, just to bargain her down. She hadn’t been on board with stealing from the royalty. It was the King she had served and bled for in the war, after all. But Buck assured her he wasn’t stealing anything that wasn’t rightfully his. He wasn’t going to keep it, and he wasn’t going to sell it, either. He just wanted to keep it out of the New Queen’s reach. He couldn’t bear the idea of someone wearing his mother’s jewels.

It was petty. Buck knew that then, and he knew it now even more. But he was hurting. The First Queen was dead, and the King acted like he didn’t care. He had moved on, and Buck was left to defend what was left of his mother. 

“We had a deal, Buck. You run with your thieves, but you don’t steal from me,” said the King, again, frowning. “But you did.”

Buck shook his head.

“I didn’t.”

“My guards caught you!”

Buck shook his head again. He tightened his hold on Christopher, desperate for something to cling to so that he didn’t give into the urge to storm out. He needed his father’s help.

Maybe, deep down, he was tired of running away.

“They didn’t, though,” said Buck, quietly.

The King huffed. He leaped from his throne, so that he could tower over Buck. In that moment, Buck saw the King before him, not his father, and he thought his birth mother and how she liked to say that the King was just a man. Buck wasn’t so sure of that right now.

“That’s not the point here, Evan. You smeared your mother’s memory—the Queen’s honor—when stole from her and sold her jewels off for pretty coin.”

Buck flinched so hard he took an involuntary step back. His heart jumped to his throat and stayed there. He stared at the King, his father, in horror.

“I—I would never!” he said, but the breath had been stolen from his lungs, and it came out as a croak. “Mother’s jewels mean more to me than any amount of coin ever could. How dare you accuse me of your own sins.”

“This isn’t my sin.”

Buck bit down hard on his bottom lip. He shook his head. Suddenly, the urge to leave was back tenfold, despite Christopher’s comforting weight in his arms. That the King could think of Buck so callously...

“I took mother’s jewels from the King’s Palace, but they never left royal possession—or maybe they did with me. But I swear to you, on your gods, I have never dishonored Mother so.”

The King stared at Buck, and Buck thought about cutting his losses right then, disappearing into the night and forgetting all about the refuge his father owed him. Christopher shifted in Buck’s arms and placed his hand on Buck’s heated cheek, a silent comfort that nearly made Buck break down right there. He was frustrated and hurt, and here Christopher was reminding him there was good in the world. There was good in this room. It just wasn’t Buck, and it wasn’t the King, either.

Eddie’s words came to Buck then: _Family is what you make of it._

“I didn’t come here to fight,” said Buck. He felt defeated. He wondered if he was wasting his time and breath, or if the King would even agree to help after this, or if the King would have agreed to help anyway. “I came here, because I’m in trouble, and you say I’m still family.”

“You are.”

Buck sighed.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“There’s no maybe, Buck. You are my son.”

“Yeah, well, you say you loved Mother and you still do, but you replaced her without a second thought, and you replaced me, too, so, I dunno. It’s pretty damn hard to figure out what family means to you.”

“I didn’t replace your mother.”

Buck had to laugh, because the alternative was crying, and he refused to cry in front the King.

“I love your Mother. I love her so much it hurts to breathe without her, even now. Buck, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You accuse me of smearing Mother’s memory, her honor, but you parade around your new wife like Mother never existed at all. I’m nothing to you now that you’ve got your new family.”

The King flinched. Buck took a split second flush of victory from it, but it was short lived. The King stared open-mouthed at Buck, and Buck wondered if anybody else in the entire Empire had ever seen the King so knocked askew.

“Is this what this is about? You think I could ever love your mother or you or your sister any less than I ever have? Buck, I admit, my relationship with Athena was unexpected and probably bad timing for the rest of the world—for you—but you have to understand, I close my eyes, and I see your mother. I hear of a good story, and it’s your mother I want to tell first. I see a beautiful flower, and it’s your mother I want to give it to. But I can’t.”

The King was panting. He staggered back into his throne, falling unceremoniously into it. He leaned his head back, banging it against the back of the throne, and he stared at Buck. It was then, in that moment, that Buck finally, _finally_ saw the devastation in his father’s eyes. It had probably been there this whole time. It looked comfortable there, at home. But Buck had been too blind and too caught up in his own hurt that he hadn’t seen it.

“And it’s my fault,” added the King.

His voice was wretched, drowning in guilt. Buck almost didn’t recognize it. He probably wouldn’t have, had he not watched the words fall from the King’s tongue. Buck went numb all over. Only muscle memory kept Christopher tight to his chest.

“If I would have given into the demands of the Rotlansers, your mother would be alive, and that’s on me. That is the sin I will carry with me to my grave, and it is time you knew it, too.”

A tear cut a crooked, wet path down the King’s cheek. Buck watched it go, fascinated by the way the light glistened off it. He thought of his mother, of the burned corpse she had been before she had died, of the way her skin fell off at the slightest of touch. He thought of his father crying at her bedside then raging in the war room and demanding to push the borders north to protect the Backlands and the Pass at all cost. The Empire had lost their queen in a blitz attack by hired rogues, but they wouldn’t lose their lands, too.

Buck’s chest constricted. He saw his father more clearly than he had in years. He thought about what it meant to be King and about everything his father had taught him. He thought about what it meant to blame oneself for someone else’s sin. He knew in his heart that his father was wrong.

“The Rotlanser rogues killed Mother, not you.”

“I’m the King. I could have ordered the knights to back down. I knew the risks in refusing.”

“Exactly. You knew the risks in refusing, and that means you knew the risks in giving in, too. Who is to say the Rotlansers would have been satisfied with those lands? Who is to say they wouldn’t have taken your acquiescence as a sign of weakness and used those lands to invade the rest of the Empire?”

The King buried his face in his hands. Buck could see the weight of the world and the way it sat—pushed down—upon the King’s shoulders. Buck felt immensely guilty for every hurtful thing he had ever said to the King. His father didn’t deserve it.

“You’re a good king, Father, and you made the right choice, and I know Mother would agree with me.”

The King whipped his head up and stared at Buck in surprise.

“That’s the first time you have called me Father since the funeral.”

Buck chewed on his bottom lip. He nodded, sadly, because it was the truth.

“I’m sorry about everything.”

The King offered a smile. It was tinged with sadness but also hope. He looked less like he was falling apart in front of Buck. It made Buck wonder how many nights his father had set up worrying over the burden of being the King.

“Me too, son.”

It felt like a new beginning, like the one they should have had years ago at the First Queen’s funeral when all they really had was each other. Things were different now. The King had a new wife and a new family. Buck had his thieves

“I didn’t marry Athena to replace your mother,” said the King, softly. “I married her, because she helped me see there was more to life than killing myself as the king. She helped me grieve for your mother, and she always asks me about her, and she always wants to know the answers, too.”

Buck thought of his brief meeting with the New Queen, how she had so easily thrown around the First Queen’s name. It made a little more sense now. It hurt a little less.

“I’m sorry if my marrying her made you feel like you were any less than my son, because you aren’t, and I made sure the laws read that you would one day take my place.”

Buck smiled.

“I never wanted your throne. I just wanted a father.”

“I know,” said the King, “but let me give you my throne anyway. I think you will make a fine king one day, even better than me.”

“I’m not sure the Empire will appreciate a thief on the throne.”

“But you won’t be. You’ll be a king on the throne.”

The King stood then from his throne, and he crossed the distance separating him from Buck to stand eye-to-eye. Buck had grown over the years in the King’s care. He remembered having to crane his neck to look up to his father.

“Now, you say you need my help.”

Buck nodded. He took the peace offering for what it was: the first step on the long road to forgiving each other. He knew that there were other issues he and the King would need to address one day, lingering pain and hurt that was seeded in both of their hearts. But he also knew that if they were to stand here in the throne room and talk every single sin out between them, they would be here for years to come. Buck was done hating his father, and that was enough for now.

So, Buck gestured to Christopher in his arms as a sort of explanation for everything he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain. Christopher peered curiously at the King, who offered him a friendly smile. Buck doubted anybody had ever looked at Christopher and not smiled.

“I came to ask you to take him as your ward, to protect him with everything you can.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to hang out here, too, while this blows over?”

Buck shook his head.

“There are some things I need to take care of myself.”

“Things like the Undergrounders? I’ve heard their presence up in the Backlands have taken a hit, but they may be regrouping in the west.”

Buck filed that information away for later. It would handy for Chim. Maybe even Eddie.

“I don’t suppose you know anything else about ‘em?”

“Not much more than you, probably,” said the King. “I know they’re after a man by the of Eddie of Diaz Mountains, that they have a sizeable bounty on his head, and that he is said to be the one chosen by _Xyzaruna_, the merciful.”

Buck thought about asking whether the King believed that Eddie really had been chosen by the _Xyzaruna_ and what the King though of it. He realized he didn’t have to. He already knew the answer. The King knew the stories of the old gods better than anyone else in the entire Empire. He knew them, and he believed them, every single one.

“But nothing else?” prodded Buck instead.

The King hesitated. Buck knew whatever else it was the King thought he knew, Buck wasn’t going to like it. He seldom did like information gleamed from royal sources. He liked them even less when they coincided with thieving business.

“The East Guard sent word there’s been... _activity_ near the King’s Palace. If anyone were looking for something that didn’t want to be found, well, I might recommend they look there first.”

Buck winced but nodded. He hadn’t missed the way the King’s voice had wavered over the name of the palace. That had been where the First Queen had met her demise and were she was entombed in the royal crypt. It couldn’t have been easy for the King to remember the First Queen. It certainly wasn’t easy for Buck to.

So, Buck muttered his thanks and took what he could. This was official guarded information, like all safety concerns were, and the King didn’t even have to tell him any of this. The King, though, had never held such reservations where Buck was concerned, especially not since Buck started roaming across the entire Empire on his jobs.

“So, will you watch Christopher, take him as your ward?”

Buck needed to get out of here. He had already spent more time than he had told Eddie and Chim it would take. He hadn’t anticipated having a heart-to-heart with his father and finally getting on the same page with one another for the first time in years.

Still, every moment he spent here was one less he had to stop the Undergrounders and save Eddie.

“No, I won’t,” said the King.

Anger flared in Buck’s chest. It was chased by a familiar pang of hurt and disappointment.

“What?” he demanded.

The King help up a hand. Habitual respect for the King’s order was the only thing that kept Buck’s tongue at bay.

“I will not take him as _my_ ward. You will take him as yours, and I will protect him in your stead.”

“What difference does it make?” demanded Buck. “And do I even have the power to do that?”

“You’re the direct heir to the throne, of course you have the power,” said the King. “You will name him as your ward to keep him safer. If I name him mine, I have to proclaim him to the entire Empire, but you, as a prince, do not.”

Buck glanced down at Christopher in his arms. Thus far, though the King and Buck’s heart-to-heart, Christopher had hidden his face in Buck’s neck, but now he was peering curiously at the King. When he sensed Buck was looking at him, he glanced up and offered Buck a toothy smile.

“I like him,” he whispered, though, given the acoustics of the throne room, it was likely the King heard him. “I will like it here. He will keep me safe.”

“How do you know?” asked Buck, softly.

Christopher was entirely too trusting in Buck’s opinion. Buck hadn’t spent a whole lot of time around kids Christopher’s age, but he didn’t remember being this open to the idea of living with the King when the King had come to save his life. This whole time, though, Christopher hadn’t expressed any reservations, not when Eddie sat him down and explained what was going to happen, not when Buck carried him away from his father to the palace, and not even when Buck and the King had exchanged such harsh words.

“You take care of Daddy, and your dad will take care of me. That’s how it works,” said Christopher.

It wasn’t an answer to Buck’s question, but maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe Christopher was just that trusting. Or perhaps those up in Diaz Mountains held high opinions of the King. Buck didn’t know. He didn’t have time to debate, either. He had to return to Eddie and Chim. Every moment he dwelled in here was another for the Undergrounders to strike.

So, Buck took Christopher’s answer for what it was. He turned to the King. He drew in a long, readying breath then let it out. He had promised Eddie that the King would protect Christopher. He could only hope that Eddie forgave Buck for stepping over boundaries and claiming Christopher himself instead of the King like they had agreed upon.

There wasn’t time to check with Eddie, and he had sworn to Pepa that he would do everything in his power to keep Christopher safe. This was what he could do. This was what he could give to Christopher to keep him safe.

“OK. Tell me what I need to do.”


	15. Chapter 15

With Christopher safely in the King’s care, Buck snuck back into the Sewers and headed straight for the rotunda. It was much later than he had thought it was. The sun had long since fallen below the horizon. Night had properly taken a hold. They had arrived in the Station sometime after midday. It had taken hours for Buck to make everything official for the royal family to properly care for and protect Christopher. The King had walked him through every step until everything was perfect.

By the time Buck had left, the King had settled Christopher into Buck’s old quarters, and that alone had triggered another humble apology. The King had waved Buck off like it was nothing. But it wasn’t. The proof was right before Buck: the King had kept Buck’s quarters exactly as they had been when he left, like he was waiting for Buck to come home.

It proved yet again how unfair Buck had been to the King this whole time. The King hadn’t moved on and left Buck behind. He was reaching out to Buck to call him home, and Buck had been so caught up in his own hurt that he was blinded to everything else.

One day, Buck might return home as a prodigal son of the Empire and officially take his place in line for the throne. Buck loved his thieves, but he loved his people, too. He knew that he could help them so much better as the king, even as a prince, than he could ever as thief.

That was a far-off dream. For now, there was the ever-real possibility that Buck might not survive long enough to take the throne. Almost two weeks had passed since he and Chim had first stepped foot in Diaz Mountains. They had successfully made it back to the River District with Eddie and Christopher in tow, but they had to assume the Undergrounders were on their tail by now. Eddie still had a pretty bounty on his head. Buck would put good money that he and Chim and maybe even Hen did now, too.

In the Crossroads Tunnel, Josh, one of the resident thieves, stopped him.

“There’s someone looking for you.”

Josh was around Buck’s age, though he stood a good half of a head shorter than Buck. He favored, unlike Buck, regular street clothes. He wore a long, loose tunic like those in the River favored and light trousers. He had been with the thieves longer than Buck had, though usually he worked behind the scenes for Chim to dredge up jobs. Half of the guild’s work came through him, and there wasn’t a single thing that happened in the Underbelly of the Station that he didn’t know about.

“In the Sewers?”

Josh shrugged. There was a shadow of _something_ in his expression that made the hairs on the back of Buck’s neck stand up.

“Never seen her before, but by the way she talks, she knows you.”

A lead weight settled in the pit of Buck’s stomach. He had an inkling of who it could be, but he didn’t want to think about what that meant, just like he hadn’t wanted to think about his old bed chamber in the Queen’s Point. Whatever that meant or this, it couldn’t be good.

“Where is she? The tavern?”

“Actually...” said Josh, trailing off.

He nodded behind Buck before walking away, like he knew this wasn’t something he should interfere with. Buck swung around in the next second. His heart skipped a beat in his chest. A surge of delight and horror tangled in his chest. Standing before him, beautiful as he ever remembered, was his sister.

“Maddie.”

He stepped forward out of instinct. She did, too, and they met in the middle, throwing their arms around each other. Buck squeezed as tightly as he could, certain that if he held her any looser this would prove to a mirage, a good trick of the light. But it wasn’t. Maddie was real and solid and whole in his arms. She clung to him as much as he did to her.

She had lost weight. Her frame was thinner than he remembered, more fragile. When they stepped back, hardly an arm’s length away from one another, he saw the state of her dress. It was travel-worn and ragged. She had dirt around the beds of her fingernails and mud swiped across her cheek. And—if Buck looked closely enough—the tale-tell signs of healing bruises littered across her skin from her wrists to her face and maybe everywhere in between.

Bile rushed up his throat at the realization. It was quickly chased by white-hot anger, the same kind of fervor that had flooded him in the bed chamber of the Queen’s Point. Whatever had brought Maddie here to the bowels of the River District was not good at all.

“What are you doing here?” asked Buck. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, it’s just...”

He didn’t exactly know what _it just _was. He took in the healing bruises, the way her hands shook, and the haunted glint in her eyes. He thought of the way some thieves looked when they got back from a job-gone-wrong. Maddie wasn’t too far off the mark.

Buck felt simultaneously angry and helpless. He didn’t know what had happened or why Maddie was here or even why she was traveling alone. But something had happened. That much was obvious. And Buck couldn’t change the past.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, quietly. Hauntedly. Haggardly. She dug her fingers into the meat of Buck’s arms, hard enough to leave marks. “I ran from him, Buck. I ran as fast and as far as I could.”

_Him_. It didn’t take a Black Heart to guess that the _him _was Doug, Maddie’s noble-class husband. Buck had never liked him. He had always gotten a bad feeling from Doug, but he had never been able to put into words what it was about Doug that he didn’t like. It was an instinct, a gut feeling. Yet, he was the only one who thought so. Maddie had been charmed by him, and the King and Queen had seemed to like him, too.

Mostly, Doug had been Maddie’s ticket out of the line for the throne, which she vehemently did not cared to sit upon. The King had wanted to pass along his heritage to Maddie, as the first born, but she was uninterested in the pressures and the horrors of queenship. She had watched their father, the King, fight a long, bloody war. She had witnessed everything the King had lost—from the King’s own children to his wife to hundreds, maybe even a thousand, good knights on the battlefield. She hadn’t wished that heartache upon herself.

Buck couldn’t blame her, not even if it meant that heartache would be his instead. He would rather suffer a thousand times over than let Maddie bear the brunt of the entire Empire’s expectations.

Sometimes, Buck secretly thought that maybe Maddie had been more afraid of taking power after watching their birth father grow mad with it. Buck had never met the man who had lain with his birth mother, but he knew the stories, and they weren’t good. They weren’t admirable. They certainly weren’t anything he would want to repeat. His birth father had gotten a taste of riches and power, and he had destroyed himself and his young family with it. 

“I ran to you,” continued Maddie. There was a note of desperation in her trembling voice. “You’re all I have left.”

“But the King—”

“He can’t know where I’m at, Buck, and the news of my return to the palace will spread far and wide. He’ll track me down, and Father’s men will be nothing against him.”

Buck bit his bottom lip. His reconciliation with the King, their father, was still new to him, but he also knew that the King would do anything he could to protect his children. He would raze the entire world if it meant keeping Maddie and Buck safe. Maddie had always had a better understanding with the King than Buck ever had.

But Buck also knew the truth in Maddie’s statement. There were somethings that were out of the hands of the King. That was why Buck hadn’t sought personal refuge with the King to hide out while this whole mess with the Undergrounders blew over. He understood why Maddie couldn’t, either.

“I was wondering if I could lay low here with you for a while.”

“Of course,” answered Buck, without even considering it. He would never tell his sister no. “But, uh, you should know—I’m a—well—”

“A thief?” supplied Maddie, smiling knowingly at him.

Buck nodded.

“I’ve lived the last five years in the Queen’s Highlands, not under a rock. I know the look of a thief when I see one. What I don’t know is what deal you struck up with Father for him to go along with all of this.”

Maddie was still smiling at him, her voice tilting toward teasing. She still had a haunted look about her, but she was trying not to. Buck wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to try so hard. She was his sister, his blood, and he loved when she was strong and when she was weak and everything in between.

But he knew a thing or two about trying to pretend like everything was okay if only to keep from falling completely apart, so he laughed. He offered his arm for her to take like he did when they were kids learning the royal life. She took it. He headed for the rotunda. Outsiders usually weren’t allowed, but Buck was sure Chim would make an exception for Maddie, his sister and the Princess of the Empire.

“Good negotiator, I am. I promised Father I wouldn’t steal from royalty, and he promised to look the other way.”

Maddie tried to offer him a smile, but it fell flat on her worried-raw lips. She had always had a bad habit of chewing on her lips when she was anxious. It was almost comforting, like a step back in time, that there were things of her that hadn’t changed. _Almost_ in the sense that Buck would have rather everything about his sister had changed instead of the current situation which was that Maddie was running away from her husband because Buck’s gut-feeling had been right: Doug was bad news.

“C’mon,” said Buck, swallowing against the anger that rushed up his throat. “Lemme give you the grand tour.”

Maddie squeezed Buck’s arm, a silent assurance that she trusted him, and relief crashed like waves across Buck’s body. Maddie hadn’t just run to Buck because she didn’t have anyone else. She had run to him, because she trusted him to help her and maybe even to protect her.

Buck wanted to high-tail it straight to the Highlands and beat down the door to Kendall Manor and give Doug what he had coming to him. Buck wasn’t a violent man. He prided himself on helping people, not hurting them, but this was Maddie. There were few things more important to Buck in the entire world than his sister.

He pushed those awful desires away. Maddie was here now, safe and right next to Buck. He could deal with Doug later—and he _would_.

Like promised, Buck gave Maddie a quick tour of the Sewers, showing her first the Underbelly of the Station: a quick peak into the Black Market then a stop in at the tavern. They didn’t linger long in either place. The market was business as usual for the time, though it would pick up later as the night grew darker, and the tavern was starting to liven up. Lena would be playing tonight. Nobody would want to miss that.

Buck led Maddie into the hidden entrance to the Thieves’ Hideout, skirting behind an old sewer grate and then stepping behind a knock-out door hidden in a double stacked crate. It opened up into the sewer tunnel that led to a latched door. Buck picked the lock in a couple of seconds, nearly one handed and off muscle memory alone. It wasn’t too difficult of a lock, meant more to deter visitors rather than ban them completely. Anyone who got this far didn’t do so accidentally. Either they were a member or hunting one, and no matter the lock, it wouldn’t stop them.

The rotunda was sparsely populated. Most of the thieves were already next door in the tavern or still out on their jobs. Chim sat at his usual spot at his desk. There was a mountain of parchments piled up. Nearly three full weeks of travel had caught up with him, and, apparently, Hen had led in name only.

Hen was seated in one of the chairs on the other side of Chim’s desk, leaned back with her feet resting on the corner of the desk. She was talking a league a minute, an inane sort of chatter that seemed to blend into the background of the usual hustle-and-bustle of the thieves. Next to her sat Eddie, and his back was to Buck, yet Buck’s heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him. Buck didn’t doubt for a moment that Eddie already knew he was there.

“Slacking on your job, were ya, Hen?” teased Buck, when he and Maddie had strolled close enough that he could speak at a regular volume rather than yell.

“This is the paperwork Chim had to personally take care of,” answered Hen, without missing a beat. “He’s lucky I didn’t leave him with everything. I considered it for a hot second.”

She had her head thrown back, resting against the top of the back of the chair, and her eyes were closed. There was the hint of a grin on her face. Buck was glad to see her.

“Who is this with you, Buck?” asked Chim, eyeing Maddie best he could, though Buck stood in his line of sight. “You know the rules. Unless they’re a new recruit—”

“This is Maddie, my sister.”

Chim sat ramrod straight, his eyes going wide. On the other side of the desk, Hen and Eddie, too, sat more properly in their chairs. Buck resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their response. Chim and Hen, at least, had known Buck for years. They should have been used to dealing with royalty one-on-one, at least Buck’s brand of it. Eddie, for his part, had never treated Buck any differently because he was the son of the King.

“She needs a place to lie low for a while,” he continued. “She even says she’s got no problem knocking elbows with thieves.”

“I think that was a little generous take on my opinion, Buck,” said Maddie, teasingly.

She let go of Buck to step forward and offer her hand to Chim, a proper royal greeting given to the man in charge. Chim stared at her outstretched with his eyes spread comically wide. Buck had never seen Chim so caught off guard, not even the time they were knee-deep in a merchant’s house up on the coast in Mniagate, and the merchant’s wife caught Chim and Buck red-handed in the bed chamber rifling through their goods, and she had mistaken them for a couple of new young lovers desperate for privacy and a bed.

Buck cleared his throat. Chim jumped. Catching up to himself, he shot a glare at Buck even as his face flooded with color. He stood up then and offered Maddie his signature charming smile, the kind he put on when he met a mark with a pretty face. He clasped her hand.

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

Buck felt a gut-urge to step in between Chim and Maddie, but he reined himself in. Maddie could take care of herself, even in the face of the best thief in the guild. Buck highly doubted Chim would consider stealing from Buck’s own sister, let alone the beloved princess of the Empire who had the same sob story Buck himself did.

“None of that,” said Maddie, laughing. It was such a stark contrast to the shadows in her eyes that Buck could almost not believe she was the one making the noise. “If you can call my brother by his name, you can call me Maddie. The benevolent gods know royal customs don’t belong down here.”

“Please, call me Howie,” said Chim, so softly that Buck was almost certain he had misheard him.

Buck almost choked on his own spit. Considering the way that Hen’s eyebrows shot straight up on her forehead, she, too, hadn’t expected such an offer. Chim never introduced himself as anything other than his beloved moniker, and he didn’t let his friends call him anything but, either.

“Howie it is then.”

Maddie smiled then, and it was almost like the two of them were the only ones in the entire rotunda. Maddie was no longer the trembling shell of Buck’s sister she had been in the Crossroads Tunnel. Buck was glad, though he could still see the worry clinging to the edges of Maddie’s smile.

Yet, Chim had that sort of effect on a person, able to calm even the most frayed of their nerves. He was as unassuming of a person as one could be, which was an excellent quality for a thief to have.

“And I’m Hen, the guild’s favorite, and this is Eddie, your brother’s favorite.”

Hen stood up to offer Maddie her hand to shake, nearly knocking Eddie out of his chair to do so. Eddie grumbled a curse native to the Backlands. The commotion popped the bubble that had seemed to have settled down around Maddie and Chim.

Maddie took Hen’s hand as well as shook it, offering her the same smile she had mustered up for Chim. Buck was overcome with a rush of gratitude. These were the people who had welcomed him in, even though he was a prince running away from his crown and they had no idea he wouldn’t betray them by running back to his father to tell him all of the guild’s secrets. Here they were extending the same courtesy to Maddie that they had him, welcoming her into their lives without a single moment of hesitation.

“Welcome to the guild,” said Hen, warmly. “Any family of Buck’s is family to us. We’re glad you’re here, and you can stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” said Maddie, as she stepped back from Hen.

She meant it. The relief was plain on her face. Buck felt a tug of anger in the pit of his stomach. His sister shouldn’t have to be thankful for the refuge a place like the thieves' guild could offer her. She should be safe and loved in her own home hundreds of leagues away from here.

But she wasn’t. She was here, and Buck’s thieves were trying to make the best of a bad situation they didn’t even know about, and they hadn’t demanded any answers for why she was here and needed their help.

“So, you’re my brother’s favorite?” asked Maddie, staring down at Eddie.

Eddie glanced at Buck then stood to properly greet Maddie. She sized him up, and Buck wondered what she saw in him. Maybe the exhaustion in his eyes or the burdened set of his shoulders.

“Nah, Hen’s wrong. I’d say his favorite is you,” said Eddie. He shook Maddie’s hand like Chim and Hen did before him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Maddie glanced over her shoulder at Buck and smiled deviously. Buck braced himself for the worst. She turned back to Eddie.

“So, where did you two meet?”

“Up in Angelsbury,” answered Eddie, truthfully. He leaned a little closer to Maddie, though he kept a respectable distance between them still. He must have been able to read the distress off Maddie. Maybe he was even able to read what had happened that had chased here to the bowels of the River District and wanted to comfort her or distract her all he could. “Your brother was tasked with stealing a trinket of mine, and, well, between you and me, he isn’t as good as he thinks he is.”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“Don’t let him lie to you, Maddie.”

Eddie smiled over Maddie’s shoulder at Buck, and Buck’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He was reminded then of how handsome Eddie had looked in the basement of the house in Angelsbury. He could almost still feel the hot press of Eddie’s lips against his own.

It had been too long since they had been alone with one another. It had been longer still since they had last been intimate. Buck had never known he could crave the touch of another like he did Eddie.

“Okay, so maybe he intrigued me from the start,” said Eddie, speaking to Maddie but staring into Buck’s eyes. “Captivated me, really.”

Chim and Hen made identical gagging sounds. Eddie huffed and shook his head at them, but his smile was still there, like it was meant forever for Buck. Maddie looked between them all. She fit in, Buck realized in that moment, and maybe her coming here was a result of terrible circumstances but her being here was like a beautiful new beginning.

“Let’s get you set up,” said Buck to Maddie. “I’m sure Chim won’t mind if you crash on a spare bed for now.”

It had been a long day for him. He could only imagine it had been for her, too.

“Nonsense,” said Chim. “The Sewers are no place for a lady.”

Hen snorted.

“What do you think I am?”

“A thief,” said Chim. “But Maddie isn’t. She’s only got the bad luck of being the sister of one. Come on. You can stay at my place. I’m hardly there anyway, but it’s well-stocked and as secured as the palace.”

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s...”

Maddie trailed off. She glanced uncertainly over at Buck. This was Buck’s friend, his boss. There were few people in the entire world that Buck trusted more than Chim. But he knew Maddie’s hesitancy.

“Don’t worry, Buck will be staying there, too, for now,” said Chim. It seemed he, too, had picked up on the reason for Maddie’s hesitancy. Or maybe he hadn’t and had only realized now how forward his offer had been. His cheeks were still darkened in color. “He’s traveled hard the past few weeks. He deserves some rest in a proper bed.”

Except that wasn’t it at all. Buck hadn’t necessarily traveled more than usual as of late. Even the trip to Diaz Mountains and back wasn’t out of the ordinary. Buck was used to living his life on the road, sleeping in bed rolls or the occasional night in an inn. Chim had never before extended such an offer when Buck had gotten back from a rough job. The beds in the hideout were good quality for the state of the guild.

But Buck wasn’t going to tell Maddie any of this. He wasn’t going to leave Maddie all alone in a strange place. She had come running to him. He needed to protect her. She was all he had left of the family that had birthed him.

“Wait. You live down here?” asked Maddie to Buck.

Buck shrugged.

“The deal I struck with Father included an unspoken agreement that I wouldn’t purchase a home with thieving gold. Easier to play blind, you know.”

Maddie bit her lips together. She looked like she wanted to ask more, perhaps about Buck’s living arrangements or his relationship with their father. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to discuss either with her. She wouldn’t understand the itch beneath his skin to see the Empire as a ghost. Or the pain of the loss of their mother that still coursed through his veins and had poisoned his relationship with their father. Or the desire to find himself outside of the life he had been thrust into.

“Besides, Chim’s place is the nicest around,” added Buck.

He didn’t think the Sewers were the best place for Maddie, either. The thieves were one thing. The smell was another, and even though these parts of the sewers had not been in use for generations, the lingering musty scent still took some getting used to.

“And you’ll be in good company,” said Chim. “Eddie’s crashing there, too. He’s had a long journey from up in the Backlands. He thinks he’s too good to rough it with us thieves.”

“You’re not a thief?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Not exactly my forte. I spend too much time on the road for that.”

“What brings you to the Station?”

Eddie smiled over at Buck.

“Your brother, actually.”

Maddie looked between Buck and Eddie. There was a soft smile on her face. Buck tried not to fidget under her gaze, even as he resisted the urge to kiss Eddie flat on the lips right before them all.

“Why don’t I show you around?” offered Hen. “Let those two work themselves out in privacy before they jump each other’s bones again. Or else they’ll find the nearest bed and—”

“Hey! That was once,” said Buck, indignantly.

Hen snorted. Buck realized half of a second too late that he had proved her point anyway. He grumbled to himself, but Maddie knocked her elbow against his.

“I think it’s sweet,” she said, quietly to him. “You deserve someone who looks at you like Eddie does.”

Buck's breath stuttered, desire pooling in his belly like the beginnings of a great storm. It had been boiling under the surface of him since he had left Iy’s Landing, but there had been other things to worry about: the Undergrounders, the King, Christopher, Eddie himself, and finally Maddie. Now, those things were still there, but they weren’t as real or as pressing here in the comfort and relative safety of the thieves’ hideout. Buck remembered the taste of Eddie on his tongue. He craved it now.

“Eddie and I can catch up later. You just got here, and you came here, because—”

“Don’t do that, Buck. You trust Hen and Chim, and that is good enough for me. I’m not scared here, not now at least. I know how to blend in.”

“Most important thing Father taught us, yes?”

Maddie smiled.

“Go and have your fun. I’ll meet you at Chim’s later? Or is this going to be an all-night thing?”

Buck rolled his eyes at her. He had missed her teasing. The fact that she even was right now spoke volumes of how safe she felt in Buck’s life. Maddie was resilient. She had survived the horror that had been their childhood on the gods-forsaken tundra, and she had survived the war as a front-line healer as well. She would survive Doug, too. Buck could see it in her eyes, the way they had more spark in them here in the Rotunda than they had in the Sewers when she had first met Buck only a little while ago.

“If you’re sure...”

“Yes, go. I can’t live every second looking over my shoulder. This is the last place he’ll look for me.”

“Because it’s the last place you should have gone,” guessed Buck.

Except it wasn’t really a guess. Maddie was recognizable amongst the royal ranks, much like Buck himself was. She was more likely to be seen here in the heart of the royal court than she would have been in any other citadel in the entire Empire. There, she could have enjoyed anonymity for months or maybe even years or maybe even forever. Here, she gambled every time she stepped outside.

“I’ll be fine,” assured Maddie.

Buck wondered when exactly the tables had turned. Maddie had run to him for safety. He should be the one assuring her that everything was going to be all right. But Maddie was forever Buck’s older sister. His caretaker.

Maddie turned to Hen. She spoke louder than she had. The conversation was no longer private.

“What is all the fuss about in the tavern next door?”

Hen smiled. She extended her arm for Maddie to take, and, after a slight bit of hesitation, Maddie stepped away from Buck to link her arm through Hen’s. It was the only sign that this was all a front she was forcing herself to put on, but Buck wasn’t nearly as worried as he had been. This was what Maddie did in new situations: faked it until she made it. That had been her philosophy as a princess learning the ropes and as a healer fresh on the blood-soaked battlefields, and it was nice to know that was still her today despite what she was running from.

“Oh, honey, you’re in for a treat. But first, let’s get you into some... less conspicuous attire.”

Hen and Maddie left them for the thieves’ armory. It held all off their standard-issue armor as well as weapons or supplies that that thieves might have needed for a job. It was located off the Rotunda, opposite the tunnel entrance.

They left Chim, Buck, and Eddie gathered around the guildmaster’s desk. Chim watched them go until they faded into darkness. He turned to Buck and Eddie.

“Look, whatever it is the two of you need to work out, it had better not be here in the hideout. There shall be no tumbles in the hay here—at least not where I can hear you.”

“There are plenty of places that—”

Chim held up a hand, cutting Buck off.

“I don’t want to hear it. Get out of here. That’s an order to both of you.”

“Why do you think we’re going to run off and have sex at the first opportunity?” asked Buck, not moving.

Chim leveled him with a look that was stocked full of disbelief.

“You could have cut the sexual tension with a knife back at the Queen’s Point, and let’s not even talk about how you two were practically on top of each other on the carriage ride here from Hart.”

Buck opened his mouth to pester Chim more. There was hardly anything he found funnier than Chim all riled up, but Eddie grabbed his wrist, and Buck’s brain immediately stuttered to a halt. All he could think about was the firm grip of Eddie’s hand against Buck’s own skin.

“Good night for a walk, ain’t it?” murmured Eddie, stepping close enough to speak right into Buck’s ear.

Buck shivered. Eddie’s breath was warm against his skin. He wondered if Eddie could pick up on the unholy desire coursing through his veins, or if Eddie was so caught up in himself and the way that Buck felt underneath his hand that he couldn’t think straight, either.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen the Great River under the cast of starlight,” continued Eddie.

He began walking toward the closest exit, probably to Chim’s relief. Buck stumbled along after him. He would follow Eddie anywhere right now, even to the End of the World. Eddie was leading him down a long, abandoned sewer tunnel. He kept a steady pace. Buck didn’t know how he could be so in control of himself when all Buck wanted to do was press Eddie up against the damp stones and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe.

“I used to think it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

Buck wetted his lips. He tried to focus on Eddie’s words, on his feet beneath him leading him closer to Eddie’s destination, but it was like running through water.

“Used to?” he croaked.

Eddie smiled over his shoulder at Buck. It was that heart-stopping, ear-pounding smile that knocked the breath right out of Buck’s lungs. Buck stumbled under the onslaught of it. Eddie was a steady hand on his wrist and kept him upright. For Buck, all that existed in the universe in that moment in time was Eddie. Everything else felt leagues away, even the night air as it brushed against his heated cheeks for the first time.

It was a new moon night, but thousands of stars twinkled down on them. Eddie had led them out through the entrance next to the Great Sea. Its rocky shore stretched for leagues in either direction. Before them, the waves were calm.

“Then I laid my eyes on you,” said Eddie, reverently.

He helped Buck climb down the rocks until they were both standing in a carve out of the coast where the river spilled into the sea. Here, it was only them and the sea stretched out before them. Buck was acutely aware that they were alone for the first time since Iy’s Landing.

Buck swallowed the spit in his mouth. An almost insurmountable desire crashed over him. He lunged at Eddie then, no longer able to restrain himself now that he didn’t have to. He smashed his lips against Eddie’s, indelicately, and Eddie was there, catching Buck, kissing him like he would die if he didn’t.

They stumbled backward into the uneven rock behind them, Buck’s back pressed against the cool rock. Eddie boxed him in with his body, and Eddie tasted like Buck remembered. He kissed like it, too, and Buck prayed the moment would stretch out infinitely before them.

It didn’t. Eddie broke for air, but he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against Buck’s. Buck panted against Eddie. His mind whirled a thousand leagues a second. All he could think of was the picture of Eddie in his mind laid out beneath the stars.

Buck tugged at the laces of Eddie’s leather armor. It was built like Buck’s but so sinfully different that Buck’s unpracticed fingers struggled with the knots. He was trembling with desire, half-crazed out of his mind. He was about to lay Eddie bare before him for the first time in weeks, and his impatience was getting the best of him.

Eddie lightly slapped Buck’s fingers away. He captured Buck’s lips into another kiss, this one softer than the first, as he worked over the laces of his own armor than Buck’s until they were both bare, the night air tickling across their heated skin.

They broke apart again. Eddie looked devilishly handsome beneath the stars. Buck’s imagination hadn’t done Eddie justice. Buck couldn’t hold out any longer. He tugged Eddie to the ground, where Eddie lay on his back atop the dark sandy pebbles of the beach. Buck towered over him, straddling across Eddie’s hips. Their cocks brushed together, and Buck trembled at the sensation, already a hair’s length away from Oblivion.

Eddie stared up at him like Buck were a god among men, licking his bottom lip. Buck watched Eddie’s tongue as it dashed across his lip, and he leaned forward to kiss Eddie again. Eddie met him eagerly, jutting his hips forward. Buck cried out into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie it again. And again. And again.

“Eddie,” breathed Buck. “Eddie.”

But he could think of nothing else. Eddie’s cock was hot against his own. Their bodies were sweaty. Eddie tasted like the promise of everything that Buck had ever wanted. It all was too much. Eddie thrust his hips forward once more than twice. Buck cried out Eddie’s name like a curse as he came, and the stars in his vision were nothing like those in the night sky above them, but, _Eiwoas_, Buck would let them guide him home.

He collapsed onto Eddie, his come cooling between their bodies. Eddie was still painfully hard between them. Buck had just enough strength left to reach down between them and wrap his fingers around Eddie’s cock. It was covered in Buck’s come, and the feel it brought a whole new rush of desire crashing over Buck. He flicked his wrist, dragging his hand up then down Eddie’s cock in a frantic motion.

Eddie moaned beneath him, pressing his face into Buck’s shoulder, right into the cord of Buck’s pendant. He bit down there as he cried out a muffled form of Buck’s name as he came, spurting across Buck’s hand and his own belly, adding to Buck’s come already drying there.

Buck let go of Eddie just as Eddie grabbed Buck by the shoulders and flipped them over. Buck grunted as his back hit the pebbled beach. He stared up at Eddie, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he swore that he would never again see such a devastatingly handsome sight: Eddie above him wearing all of the stars in the night sky like a halo.

“_Xyzaruna_ as my witness, you’ll be the death of me,” said Eddie, breathless.

He leaned down to kiss Buck in the next second like he meant every word of it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all as the new season is upon us, let's pretend like I didn't fall off the face of the planet right into a rabbit hole of the Dragon Age series as the pandemic doubled my court case load and reality became a total sideshow. 
> 
> I present to you, as a SUPER big apology that life happened on my end, the next chapter. Woot!
> 
> (note: this message will self-destruct in T-minus 1 week...)

Buck and Eddie snuck into Chim’s place hours later, as the first rays of sun started to breach the night sky.

Chim lived in a modest house on the outskirts of the Station, far enough away from the palace that guards hardly ever patrolled it yet close enough to the River District that an old abandoned Sewer let out nearby, providing a quick and easy passage into and out of the thieves’ hideout.

Like all buildings on the water-soaked ground along the banks of the Great River, it was composed of only one floor, which was spread out to minimize the weight on the foundation. It had a cozy common area with a small kitchen and couple of sofas spread out in the space. On either side of the common area were sleeping chambers. It looked like the home of a family, not of the most profitable thief in the entire Empire.

“We should talk,” said Buck, quietly to Eddie as they stood just inside of the door. 

There was no space between them. Buck could feel the heat of Eddie’s body pressed against his own. Desire simmered in his belly, but, for now, he was satisfied. It was no longer a pressing need. He and Eddie had gone until they couldn’t anymore, underneath the night sky. Then they had redressed and slowly made their way, hand-in-hand, to Chim’s place. Even still now, Buck’s fingers were entwined with Eddie’s own.

Buck hadn’t ever thought he would ever get hung up on a person enough to be so sentimental, but he loathed to think of how long it would be until they could sneak off to themselves again.

“The King didn’t exactly do what I asked him,” said Buck.

Eddie smiled softly at him.

“I know.”

Buck nodded. He had assumed as much, but he wasn’t like Eddie. He wasn’t a Black Heart. He didn’t know everything, and he wasn’t assured by Eddie’s keen abilities that Eddie would understand the unexpected choice Buck had had to make. It hadn’t been a decision at all, really. Buck had sworn to protect Christopher.

“I named him my ward. Made everything official before I left, but I swear to you, I will withdraw everything when this is all over, and he can safely be returned to you.”

Eddie cupped Buck’s cheek with his hand. Buck leaned into it, hardly in control of the gut-reaction. Eddie was staring at him like he was precious, like he was all of the stars in the sky put into one.

“I wouldn’t have sent him with you to the King if I ever thought you would do him harm. You naming him your ward grants him the protection I can’t give him. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m still his father. He understands that.”

“I just wanted to make sure you did, too.”

“You’re too kind of a heart, Buck.”

Eddie leaned forward to press his lips against Buck’s. Unlike those they had shared on the beach, there was no urgency in it. Buck kissed him back as hard as he could, trying to pour everything he felt into it. He hadn’t meant to step on Eddie’s toes and declare Christopher his own. He had only meant to cloak him in the protection only the royal family could manage.

But a small part of Buck—however insane, however delusional—had rejoiced at naming a ward. He had rejoiced specifically that it had been Christopher he had named. He wasn’t sure when exactly it was, if it was when he met Christopher for the first time in the battle-ravaged manor back in Diaz or if it was earlier than that even when Chim had mentioned Eddie had a son, but Buck had fallen head-over-heels in love with the boy, and he swore he would protect him as his own. He wasn’t his son. He and Eddie hadn’t even technically defined their relationship. But Buck had liked calling Christopher his own. It made him feel like a little more of Eddie belonged forever to him.

It was selfish. If Eddie knew the greed in Buck’s heart, he wouldn’t think him so kind.

“You’re thinking too much,” said Eddie, when they parted. He rested his forehead against Buck’s. His breath puffed against Buck’s mouth. “There’s no one I trust more with him than you.”

“But—”

“None of that. I mean what I say.”

Buck nodded, not because he believed Eddie entirely but because Eddie was staring at him so intensely that there was no other choice. Buck wasn’t going to change Eddie’s mind, so maybe Buck should change his.

“We should get some sleep,” said Eddie.

He pulled back from Buck then but kept their fingers entwined. He started walking toward the guest chambers, opposite of the master bed chamber. Buck followed along after him, hardly able to believe that Eddie was real and here with him.

“I wanna check on Maddie,” said Buck, quietly.

“You’ll end up sleeping with her in there,” said Eddie, but he let go of Buck’s hand. He kissed Buck softly on the cheek. “Good night, Buck.”

Buck’s cheek tingled with warmth when Eddie pulled away, and it kept tingling even as Buck peaked into the bed chamber his sister had claimed as her own. She was awake, laying on her side and staring out the window. When she heard the door, she looked at Buck in the darkness.

“Early night for you,” she said.

Her voice was quiet in the stillness of the night. Eddie had already disappeared into the other guest bed chamber next door. Buck knew that he was welcomed to follow Eddie, but a wave of nostalgia washed over Buck. He was a boy again, freshly made a prince, and sneaking into his sister’s room to sleep because the world felt too big.

“It’s been a long few weeks,” said Buck. “Mind if I join you?”

But Maddie was already scooting over in the bed and holding back the covers for Buck to climb in. Buck kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his undergarments. There was a linen shirt laid across the chest of drawers beneath the window. It was Chim’s, but Buck tugged it on. He was bigger built than Chim was, but the shirt was old, and the fabric was soft, and as long as he didn’t flex his muscles too much, it was an okay fit.

Buck climbed into the bed next to Maddie. He tried to remember the last time he had, but that memory was buried in a thousand other ones. Maddie was small next to him, but in Buck’s memories, she had been bigger than him. She laid on her side with her arm crooked beneath her head, and Buck lay facing her. Though it was different than it used to be, it was remarkably the same. It was still Maddie and Buck against the world.

“Eddie seems like a gentleman. He makes you happy.”

Buck smiled without even meaning to. He could wax poetics for days about Eddie, but this was Maddie. He owed her the truth, even though she hadn’t asked him for it. She hadn’t known to ask him.

“He does,” said Buck, “but, um, there’s something you should know about him, and I need you to promise me you won’t tell.”

“I swear,” said Maddie, easily, even though she knew the same stories Buck did that their father loved to tell and knew exactly what Buck was asking of her and what she was committing herself to. She was Buck’s sister, the only family that had survived that gods-forsaken tundra. 

“I don’t really know how to put this.”

“Does this have anything to do with the trouble you’re in?”

Buck stopped. His entire body went rigid. Maddie probably couldn’t see the shock on his face in the darkness, but she could feel how tense he was.

“Hen and Chim mentioned it. They said that’s why you’ve been traveling so much.”

“Yeah,” said Buck. “Eddie’s got a bounty on his head.”

“They explained that part, too.”

“And he’s sort of, kind of a Black Heart.”

“Sort of, kind of?” repeated Maddie.

There was trepidation in her voice, but she hadn’t leapt from the bed crying _traitorous rogue! _so Buck counted that as a good sign. He sighed.

“He is, and, _Eiwoas_ help me, but I think I love him anyway.”

Maddie let out a laugh. It was colored with amusement and surprise and maybe even delight, if Buck chose to be so optimistic. She laid her hand on Buck’s on the bed between them and squeezed it.

“I’m pretty sure there are blind men in the valley who could see that you love him and he loves you.”

Buck let out a shaky breath.

“But he’s a Black Heart,” he whispered.

“And you’re the thieving son of the King, first in line to the throne of the Empire.”

“And I haven’t even known him that long.”

“_Adiara_ does not live by _Zanlyos’s _Time Maker.”

“I’m afraid I can’t save him, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.”

Buck closed his eyes then against the onslaught of the reverberations of his confession. This was a fear that had grown in his heart on the way back from Diaz Mountains. It had been nurtured there until it lived continuously just behind Buck’s throat, in the space between that and his heart.

He hardly knew Eddie. He didn’t know what Eddie’s favorite color was or why he had fallen in love with Shannon or how he had lived his life under the cloak of Death and retained his sanity. He didn’t know what Eddie’s plans for the future was. He didn’t even know why Eddie trusted him with Christopher.

But he knew what Eddie looked like on the edge of Oblivion. He knew what Eddie tasted like on his tongue. He knew how warm Eddie’s skin was, how much Eddie cared about those around him to the point that he would rather die all alone than anyone risk their lives him. He knew that Eddie had killed for him out of fear and anger. He knew that Eddie had created an amulet for him while on the run for his life just to protect Buck from Black Hearts like him.

Buck wasn’t used to permanency. His father had died before he was born, and his mother had survived only a few years beyond that. The First Queen, the mother Buck remembered most and loved dearly, had died, too, and the King had abandoned him, too—however incorrect that assumption had been on Buck’s part—for the New Queen and her ready-built family. Even Maddie had left Buck.

Buck was so tired of loving people, and those people leaving him.

But there was no denying the way that Buck’s heart beat extra fast at the thought of Eddie or the way that Buck’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Eddie. Buck was in love. It scared him. Eddie was an assassin on the run, a Black Heart at that, and if those two things in one meant anything, it meant that Eddie was bad news. He was dangerous—if only because he might do something self-sacrificing like take on the world all by himself again just to keep Buck and Christopher and everyone else he loved safe.

“We don’t know what tomorrow holds. Nobody does. But I think if anyone can save Eddie, it’s you.”

Buck huffed, if only so that he didn’t break down and cry.

“I couldn’t save you.”

Buck heard the breath catch in Maddie’s throat. He felt minutely guilty for bringing up why she was here, but it was the elephant in the room they couldn’t ignore anymore now that they were alone. This might be their only chance to talk about it for a while. Maddie had hit it off with Hen and Chim too well to think that they were going to be satisfied with Maddie only being Buck’s sister. Maddie seemed to like them, too, if the fondness in her voice earlier was anything to go by. And Maddie needed people beyond Buck, like Buck had needed people beyond the King. Buck would rather she have Chim and Hen than people Buck didn’t know or didn’t trust.

“But you did everything you could,” said Maddie, softly, brokenly like a glass pane slowly cracking. “You warned me about him. You warned everyone you could. But I didn’t listen. I was in love, Buck, and I was blind, and that was on me.”

“No,” said Buck, shaking his head. It rattled the whole bed. “That was on Doug, not you. He is the one responsible for all of this.”

“Maybe,” said Maddie. It sounded like she was hedging more for Buck’s benefit than her own. “He was so charming, though, in the beginning. I was swept away.”

“And you wanted out of the palace.”

“Yeah,” she said. She looked troubled with a frown on her lips and a crease between her eyebrows. “I have no desire to wear the crown, and I’m sorry, Buck, that that means you have to.”

“Father has others he can name as heirs.”

“But he won’t. You were always better at that stuff than me. You were born to be king.”

“I was born a peasant.”

“No, not even then. You weren’t ordinary. You were always destined to sit upon the throne. You took to our lessons like a fish to water. You were everything Father was.”

“This isn’t about me,” said Buck, quietly.

“Humor me,” said Maddie. She sounded lighter with the new topic than she had with the old. Maybe it was too soon for her to talk about Doug and everything that had happened in the Highlands. “Tell me: what hurt you more? That Mother died or that Father married the New Queen in secret?”

Buck shook his head.

“That’s not fair. I loved Mother. I still do.”

“But all this time, you weren’t angry at Father. You were hurt by him.”

“Father and I have already worked out our differences.”

“Have you? Can you look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you will return to the palace when all of this is over with to take your rightful place as the prince of the Empire?”

_It’s dark_, Buck wanted to say, because he felt backed into a corner, and the only way he knew how to fight his way out of it was to deflect. But this was Maddie. She knew him better than anyone else in the entire world.

Buck clenched his eyes shut. He didn’t want to answer.

“I think you need to start forgiving yourself, Buck, for everything you didn’t do. Or maybe for everything you did.”

“What if I don’t want to be prince? What if I don’t want to be king? What if I don’t know what I want?”

Maddie sighed. It was a quiet noise in the darkness between them.

“You were destined for the throne, but this one foot out the door isn’t good for you. I don’t think you’ll be at ease until you decide once and for all which life it is you want for yourself.”

Buck was quiet, mulling over her words, and so was Maddie for a long moment.

“You can’t have both.”

As Buck drifted off to sleep later, under the covers with his sister at his side for the first time in years, he considered that maybe Maddie hadn’t been talking about being him being prince at all. Not entirely, at least. He laid awake a long time thereafter wondering what exactly had happened in the Highlands that Maddie refused to discuss in anything but riddles with him.

The sun was peaking in through the window when Buck woke the next morning. The bed was empty, but he could hear rumblings of voices next door. Others were up. Maybe even the whole house. He changed back into his leather armor and slipped his feet back into his boots before he ventured out.

In the common area, Chim had a kettle heating above a roaring fire. Eddie and Maddie had taken up residence on either side of one of the sofas. They were engaged in a boisterous conversation with Hen. A handful of fresh pieces of bread and jars of sweet honey lay spread out across the table. Hen must have stopped by the market on her way over.

Buck fixed himself breakfast of fresh bread slathered in honey. He took a cup of tea from Chim when the kettle finally heated to a boil. He carried both over to the sofa so that he could sit in between Maddie and Eddie to enjoy his breakfast. Chim sat across from him, next to Hen on the other sofa.

The moment Buck sat down, he became acutely aware of how warm Eddie was next to him. Buck thought about how handsome Eddie had looked outlined by the stars last night. He looked equally as handsome this morning with the warm rays of the sun dousing him in shades of gold.

“Someone had a late night last night,” said Chim, cheekily. He took a sip of his tea and peered over the lip of the mug at Buck. His mouth was hidden, but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes belied his smirk. “What? Did you have some fun on your own afterward? Eddie’s been up for hours.”

Buck’s cheeks burned despite himself. Usually he had no shame, but there was something precious about Eddie that Buck held close to his heart. It was strange.

“Someone sent me to Angelsbury then straight to Iy’s Landing and then immediately to the Backlands. Excuse me for being tired.”

Chim just laughed. He knew Buck wasn’t actually complaining. Buck would have traveled the Empire twice over if it meant reuniting with Eddie. They both knew it. They all did, sitting around on Chim’s sofas.

Eddie laid hand on Buck’s knee and squeezed it. Buck smiled, almost involuntarily over at him. His breath caught in his lungs at the picture of Eddie smiling back at him. _Eiwoas_, had Buck fallen in love with him.

“Well, bad news for you then, Buck, we don’t have time to sit around,” said Chim. There was an apologetic note in his voice, like he really meant what he said. “Got word that there is some disturbance up in northern Peniryle. Buck, you and Hen will need to leave in the morning.”

“My father’s sources think the Undergrounders may be regrouping in the west, but he also thinks we should poke around in Mniagate, around the palace there,” said Buck. “Said there’s been confirmed sightings. I think we should go there first. It’s closer.”

Chim and Hen exchanged a look. They were doing that thing where they talked amongst themselves. Buck bit back a growl of frustration. He hated it when they did that. Next to him, Eddie tensed. Anxiety bubbled up in Buck’s chest. Eddie knew what Chim and Hen weren’t saying, and judging by his reaction, Buck wasn’t going to like it.

“What?” he demanded.

It was Hen who answered him, almost instantly, but she never took her eyes off Chim as she spoke.

“Are you sure he said Mniagate?”

“No, I completely forgot where the King’s Palace is located,” said Buck. His voice dripped with sarcasm. If anyone were to know what the King meant, it was Buck. “What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

Chim and Hen ignored him.

“How recent was this information?” asked Chim. “I mean, you and Hen ran into some trouble there a few weeks back.”

“Nowhere near the palace,” said Buck, and they hadn’t been. The King’s Palace laid on the coast of the Great Sea. He and Hen had cut through the heart of Mniagate when they had finally made it out of the Pass. Buck had made sure of it. “Besides, the King had me extracted from there, if you recall. Pretty sure he would have said something then.”

Chim and Hen shared another look.

“Out with it,” snapped Buck. “Stop doing that thing you two do, and tell me what it is you think you can’t.”

“It’s just that—well, you don’t exactly have the best relationship with your father,” said Hen, softly.

“It’s different now,” said Buck, and he wondered why nobody believed him. Maddie hadn’t, and now Chim and Hen didn’t. “Even if it wasn’t, this is official royal intel. He wouldn’t have just given it to me if it didn’t amount to something.”

Hen sighed.

“OK, let’s say it is. What do you suggest we do? Mniagate is in the opposite direction of Peniryle.”

“There’s more than just one thief in the guild,” said Buck, stubbornly.

Chim hesitated.

“If you don’t send me, I’ll go anyway, and you know it,” threatened Buck. “There’s something up in Mniagate. I can feel it.”

“What you have magical powers all of a sudden?”

“No, I—”

“I think he should go,” said Eddie, cutting Chim off. He squeezed Buck’s knee again, a sign of support. Buck wasn’t sure if it was because Eddie really agreed with him or if it was because Eddie knew that Buck really would carry through his threat or if it was just maybe because Eddie didn’t like Buck being ganged up on. “His father wouldn’t have told him if he didn’t think it was important.”

Chim threw his hands up in the air, the universal signal of giving up. He looked less like the guildmaster then who had all of the answers, gave all of the orders, and more like the frustrated friend he really was. Chim had always been Buck’s friend first and foremost. That he was also his boss was more of a secondary fact.

“Of course you would say that. You’ve had his—”

“And I’ll go with him,” said Eddie, sharply. “That way you’re only one thief down. That frees whoever else to head up to Penyrile with Hen, check things out up there.”

Chim sighed.

“I almost liked it better when you were on the run,” he said, mournfully. There was a hint of teasing in his voice. He didn’t really mean it. “It was easier to talk Buck out of hair-brained ideas like this.”

Eddie grinned. He shrugged.

“You’re the one who gave me what-for for leaving. You can't have it both ways.”

Chim rolled his eyes. He didn’t fight Eddie, though, choosing instead to lay down arms in a fight he had long lost. Buck had already made up his mind the day before that he was going to Mniagate. It didn’t matter what Chim told him. There was _something_ waiting for him there, he knew it in his heart. He needed to find out what it was.

“The second order of business then, I guess is deciding who is going to go to Peniryle now that Buck has—another assignment.”

“I’ll take one of the Oldies with me,” said Hen. “In and out, easy. Probably even beat Buck back to the Sewers.”

She held a mug of tea between her hands, her elbows resting upon her knees. She looked unbothered by the idea of heading on another long trip, though Buck knew she loathed to leave her wife and son more than she had to. She seldom went on trips like she and Buck did up to the Pass, but maybe this whole thing with Eddie was bigger than Hen’s desire to stick close to the River District. Hen and Eddie had grown up together, after Eddie’s family had saved Hen from the brink of death. Loyalty like that didn’t disappear overnight.

“Fine,” said Chim. He sat back in his seat and drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “And while we’re at it, anyone wanna talk about why this guild even has a guildmaster?”

Hen laughed and elbowed him in the side. It was a good-natured gesture that made Chim almost lose his composure. He liked flaunting his position more than pulling rank, and they all knew it.

“This is about as off-books as we can get, ain’t it? We’re all friends here, Chim. We all want to save Eddie.”

Chim grumbled again, but it was more for show. Even he was fighting a grin off his face. This was a rare moment in all of their lives: all of them together, safe and sound. Buck was usually on a job, far away from the River District, and Hen was usually doing intel locally, and Chim was so busy with the guild that he hardly had time to himself most days. It was good for them to come together, though the circumstances were favored by none of them.

“So, what about me?” asked Maddie. She had sat quietly to Buck’s left this whole time and watched the exchange with undisguised intrigue. “How can I help?”

Buck’s first instinct was to tell her to stay out of it, because if she didn’t, she put herself in danger, but he caught himself before that thought even truly formed. Maddie was strong—stronger than him, perhaps—and any notion that she couldn’t take care of herself or parade around as a thief was unfair and insulting.

Buck knew Maddie was as much of a bleeding heart as their father, the King, was. She knew there was a bounty on Eddie’s head, and she knew that Buck was head-over-heels in love with him, and she knew that there was a wrong that needed to be righted. Despite everything that she had been through or everything she was running from, she was still, to the core, completely Maddie, and she wouldn’t sit quietly by while her brother and his friends—her new friends—risked their lives.

“Well, see, that’s where things get a little... tricky,” said Chim.

He apparently had no qualms about Maddie, a stranger twenty-four hours earlier, getting her hands dirty. Buck considered that he had missed something important last night when he and Eddie had snuck away and Maddie had been left to Chim and Hen’s whims. But it just made him feel a surge of friendly, brotherly affection for Chim. He wasn’t treating her like an outsider. He was treating her like he did Buck when Buck had first arrived in the guild: like she had all this potential, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

“With Buck gone, I need eyes in the palace.”

The blood drained from Maddie’s face.

“I can’t,” she said. “Anything but that. The King can’t know I’m here.”

“The public and the aristocracy can’t know you’re here,” said Chim, gently. He glanced at Buck then back at Maddie. “The King can.”

_And should_ went unspoken, but Buck heard it loud and clear in Chim’s expression. It wasn’t Chim’s place to call Maddie on her relationship with the King. Chim had no such reservations when it came to Buck, but that was different. Chim had known Buck for years by now and knew most of the details of Buck’s antagonism with the King. Maddie had her own issues, and maybe Chim didn’t know them exactly, but he knew enough to put together some pieces of the puzzle in only the way that a man as smart as he could.

“Maybe you should explain what you’re asking,” said Hen, helpfully. “Nobody likes being sent into the wolf’s den blind.”

Buck snorted. He thought of the job he had been sent on in Angelsbury when the guild had first started poking its nose into Eddie’s business. Hen met Buck’s eyes and rolled her own, a smile clearly tugging at the corners of her lips. She must have known what he was thinking about.

“We caught you up on everything last night, didn’t we?” asked Chim. “About Eddie and your brother’s penchant for nearly getting himself killed trying to save him?”

Maddie nodded. Buck muttered an indignant _hey_ underneath his breath, but Eddie squeezed his knee, comfortingly. Chim flashed him a grin. It was unapologetic, because there was nothing inherently wrong about what how he had explained away everything that had taken place over the last few weeks.

“With your brother and his company gone, we need to keep tabs on the goings-on. Sure, I could send a thief, but they’re not nearly as good getting through the guard as you would be.”

“And how exactly do you propose I get into the palace to speak with the King without the staff recognizing me?”

Chim nodded to Hen.

“That’s where she comes in. She’s our resident master potioneer. There’s no problem we’ve faced that Hen hasn’t solved with a bit of brewing.”

“Can’t guarantee they’ll taste good, though,” said Hen. “Sweeteners usually inhibit the effects.”

“We’ve got a whole system here in the guild for collecting information, and an entire team of thieves dedicated to just the Station. I’ll get you in touch with them. They’ll show you what to do, how to get the info you need, and how to remain unseen.”

The system, commonly called Dispatch, was composed of some of the best thieves in the guild, but they didn’t specialize in far-away jobs like Buck or sweeping jobs like Hen. They specialized specifically in getting local information from those in the know, from commoners all the way up to royals. Sometimes, Buck was minutely bothered by how far the guild reached under Chim’s leadership. Other times, he was impressed. The things that the thieves like Sue and Josh could get out of people, Buck wouldn’t even imagine secrets could speak so loudly, but for the Dispatch, they did.

“But first thing first is getting you into the palace,” added Chim. “And luckily, we’ve already got an in.”

He looked at Buck, and Buck got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Their in was Buck, the prince, and after his conversation with Maddie last night, the last thing Buck wanted to do was face the King again. He had too much on his mind, too many doubts in the darkest corners of his mind. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be prince or king. All he really wanted was the King’s love.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” said Buck. “I just got back from the palace. The guards will think something odd if I go back so soon, especially with new company.”

“You won’t be with company, not that the guards will see,” said Chim. “And besides, hadn’t you and your father worked things out?”

Buck sighed. That was what he had claimed only minutes before when the argument had been in his favor. Now, it wasn’t so, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what Maddie had said last night when she had questioned him as to why he was so upset with their father to begin with.

“Still, that’s not my style to hang around.”

“You’re the prince. They can’t exactly question you.”

“They can talk, and that talk can spread.”

“Now you’re just being purposefully belligerent. Why is it so hard for you to give your father a chance?” asked Chim.

_It isn’t_, thought Buck. The truce he had struck with the King felt more fragile the longer he was away from that moment when he had been so distressingly desperate for the King’s help, and the King had been unordinarily open and patient with Buck. The farther away Buck was, the more all of the reservations he had harbored about the King and his new family and the throne itself reared their ugly heads. Buck had forgiven the King for how he had grieved over the First Queen, but he wasn’t so sure he had forgiven the King for everything else. He wasn’t so sure he could face the King so soon after their truce. It would be like picking at a healing wound, something best left alone for the passing of time to stitch it up or it would burst back open.

But before Buck could say anything, Eddie squeezed his knee and distracted him.

“I think you should go, so you can make sure everything is settled,” said Eddie.

Buck sighed, already nodding in agreement before he even realized what he was doing. Eddie wanted him to check on Christopher. That Buck could do. It didn’t escape him how easy he was for Eddie. It didn’t escape Chim, either.

“Oh, come on,” grumbled Chim. “I could have tried to convince you until I was blue in the face, and you still wouldn’t have, but Eddie says one thing and you agree?”

A blush rose in Buck’s cheeks, but he shrugged and didn’t acknowledge it. He had already accepted that he had fallen hard and fast for Eddie. That he had probably loved the man on some primitive level from the very first time he laid eyes on him. He wasn’t ashamed of his feelings. He never had been. He wasn’t about to start now.

“So, to the King?”

Chim sighed. Hen patted him soothingly on the shoulder.

“Pick your battles, guildmaster.”

It was decided between them all that Buck and Maddie would head up to the palace after they finished their breakfasts. Chim had guild business in the citadel that he had pushed off for the trip up to Diaz Mountains, so he left around the same time as they. He would also secure the transport out west and up to Mniagate that the thieves would need. Hen and Eddie, on the other hand, got to work on the potions they would all need over the next few weeks. Hen had a good set up in her home that she shared with Karen on the opposite side of the citadel.

Maddie would need some type of illusion potion that allowed her access to the palace but prevented anyone for recognizing her as she was. Eddie would need a potion that cloaked him, so that he would not have to rely solely on his powers like he did on the way back from Diaz Mountains. The last thing they needed was for Eddie to exhaust himself alone with Buck and leave themselves vulnerable to an Undergrounder attack.

They were complicated potions that Buck couldn’t even begin to try to understand. Brewing had never been his forte. The only reason he could cook was because the King could, and the King had enjoyed teaching Buck the finer aspects of cooking. But Buck trusted Hen’s ability to spin out a goal into a flawless potion. His own life was testament to that. He had pulled off one too many skin-of-the-teeth escapes relying on her potions.

“You sure you don’t want to visit the King with us?” asked Buck, quietly, as they stood near the doorway of Chim’s house.

Nobody had left yet. Chim was digging out a hood and cowl for Maddie to wear into the palace. Buck’s word should be enough to get her in for now with few questions asked, but the last thing they needed was a seasoned guard familiar with the royal family recognizing Maddie on sight.

“Probably not the best idea,” said Eddie.

“I thought the wards protected you both?”

“They do, but it was hard enough letting him go the first time. I don’t need to go through that again. The next time I see him, we will not have to part.”

Buck sighed, but he understood what Eddie meant. It couldn’t have been easy letting Christopher go into the care of the King, where he would be safe but cut off from Eddie for gods knew how long. As hard as it was to keep distance between them, it would that much harder leaving Christopher once more. Buck swore to himself that they would take care of the Undergrounders as fast as they could so that Eddie could reunited with his son and never have to leave him again.

“He’s a strong kid, Buck,” said Eddie, knocking Buck out of his thoughts. He was smiling, and, _Eiwoas_, did Buck’s heart skip a beat at the sight. “He understands why I had to leave him, and he will be safe, all thanks to you.”

Eddie leaned forward then to press his lips against Buck’s, and Buck kissed him back, knowing that this was a stolen moment they were seldom to get until they left for Mniagate, and Buck imagined the trip would be far from romantic.

It was a brief kiss. Chim appeared from his bedchamber with cloth folded over one of his arms. He had found the hood and cowl for Maddie. They were burgundy in color, a typical, rich hue favored by the merchants. She would not look out of place in the palace. Hopefully, that meant nobody would look at her twice.

Hen helped Maddie into the attire, twisting cowl behind her eyes and covering her head with the hood. It was, surprisingly, not standard guild issue. Buck wondered from where Chim had gotten it, but almost immediately he knew the answer. Chim was a self-proclaimed purveyor of goods. It was what had helped propel him straight to the guildmaster status. Where his fellow thieves had relied on easily stolen goods and merchant coin, Chim had learned how to play the market against itself.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Maddie from behind the cowl.

Buck could tell who she was, because she was his sister, but the hood and cowl covered most of her face, leaving only her eyes exposed. Paired with the elegant dress favored by merchant wives, she looked like any other well-to-do woman within the high-life class. She would fit in well, especially on a day as sunny as this one was.

“I think this is the stupidest thing we’ve ever attempted,” said Buck, because it was. Sneaking the Resilient Princess into the palace and hoping that no one recognized her was akin to asking all of the gods for a miracle. He wondered if they should start praying now. “But if anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Would you stop fidgeting?” muttered Maddie.

She tightened her grip on Buck’s arm until her fingers dug painfully into his skin though the leather of his armor. Buck sighed, but he tried to stand still like a proper royal. He hadn’t been this wound up on a job since that time he and Hen had snuck into the King’s Palace to liberate the First Queen’s jewels.

Maddie and he had already made it past the hard part: the guards stationed all throughout the palace. All of Buck’s worries had been for none. The guards had recognized Buck for who he was and hardly paid any attention to Maddie on his arm. They probably thought she was nothing more than a pretty face that Buck was bringing back to the palace to show off to. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Teenaged Buck had thrived on pretty faces and short-term satisfaction. He had earned himself a little bit of a reputation that he had spent the years following the First Queen’s death trying to clean up.

Now, it worked to his advantage. They stood, awaiting the King, in the Garden Cabinet, which overlooked the Royal Garden. The King had been down in the Royal Garden with the New Queen and his family enjoying a late morning breakfast. Buck had declined the guard’s offer for Buck to join them there. He had insisted instead that the King come to him. He was pushing his status as prince a little bit, but the guard couldn’t call him on it. Only the King could, and Buck doubted he would, not after the situation of their last encounter.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said. “Anybody could recognize you.”

“It isn’t,” said Maddie.

She was entirely less apprehensive about this whole plan than Buck was, but something felt off to Buck. Maybe it was paranoia. Maddie was finally back in his life, and he didn’t want anything to happen to her, so there was a part of him that didn’t want her to help save Eddie’s life at all. Or maybe it was that Buck knew the ins-and-outs of the royal residences and knew that there was no such thing as a secret amongst the work staff.

“I’ll have Hen’s help when you’re gone. Nobody will even be able to recognize me.”

Buck sighed again. He still didn’t like the idea at all.

“You never told me why you’re hiding in the first place,” he said, gently.

Maddie tensed. Buck could feel it against his arm, and he felt immediately guilty for bringing up Doug. He didn’t feel guilty enough to apologize and let the subject drop.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, shortly.

She didn’t want to talk about it. Buck was about to leave for a couple of weeks. He wouldn’t be here to protect her. He knew that Chim would keep an eye on her, and the Dispatch probably would, too, but he worried. Mostly, he worried, because he didn’t know why he had to.

“Look, if he did anything, the guild can take care of it. We can make sure he doesn’t do anything again.”

They weren’t the Undergrounders, but they took care of their own. For some people, the guild was the only family they knew. For others, the guild was the only family they claimed. If there was one thing the guild had taught Buck over the years, it was that there were ways to take care of a problem without killing a person. Sometimes, those ways were much worse.

“This isn’t the time, Buck, or the place.”

Buck chewed on his bottom lip. He knew the walls of the palace had ears, but he also knew that there was a good chance there would never be the right time or place for this conversation. He wanted to protect Maddie. He couldn’t do anything if she didn’t tell him anything. He knew that Maddie had run from Doug, and that she had been bruised up when she had showed up in the Sewers.

Buck didn’t want to think the worst. There were a dozen reasons a person might want out, especially in an aristocratic household. But the fear in Maddie’s eyes when she had found him in the Sewers had been unmistakable. It set heavily upon Buck’s heart.

The King entered the Garden Cabinet then, saving Maddie from having to explain anything to Buck. He took one look at Buck and smiled. There was a hint of surprise on his face.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” said the King.

Buck nodded. He hadn’t expected to see the King so soon, either. He gestured to Maddie on his arm, who the King had not spared a single glance at.

“Thought you might want to know who was back in town.”

The King looked at Maddie then, confusion evident on his face at first. Maddie was unrecognizable in her attire, hidden behind the cowl and the hood. Nobody had paid her any attention as they had swept through the palace. The King hadn’t, either, until Buck told him to. Buck saw the moment recognition dawned upon the King.

“Maddie, my precious daughter,” he breathed.

He stumbled forward, not a king but a desperate, over-joyed father. He took Maddie’s hands when he reached her. He stared at her for a long moment, awe on clear on his face.

“I had heard—”

He cut himself off, and Buck’s heart leapt to his throat. Somehow, deep down inside of his mind, Buck knew what the King had heard. It was like the idea had been there this whole time, dancing just out of reach.

“Word out of the Queen’s Highlands isn’t good. I thought—no matter. You’re here.”

“I’m alive, Father,” said Maddie. She was clinging to him as much as he was her. It had been years since they had embraced, maybe since the First Queen’s funeral. “But you can’t tell anybody that I am. Things are not what they seem.”

“But—”

Maddie shook her head.

“Not even him”

Understanding dawned on the King then. His face fell, like it had that night the First Queen succumbed to her wounds and he put together the pieces that the Rogues had carried out their threat. Buck didn’t know exactly what it was the King thought he knew, but one thing was for certain: Doug had betrayed a member of the King’s family.

“You can’t do anything, either, Father,” said Maddie, hurriedly. She had read the same warning signs Buck did. “It would be a political nightmare.”

“To oblivion with politics,” snapped the King. “You’re my daughter.”

“You’re right, I am, and I know that’s why you can’t do anything, not right now. A good king lies in wait for the perfect opportunity.”

The King sighed.

“When did you become so wise?”

Maddie smiled. It was a little teary.

“I learned from the best, Father, and now I—we need your help.”

The King glanced at Buck then looked back at Maddie.

“What do you need?”

And, unlike the screaming match the Buck had invoked in their father, it was that simple. Maddie explained the skeleton of Chim’s plan, leaving out the guild secrets that the King probably already knew anyway. All they needed from the King was consistent information on the whereabouts of the Undergrounders, and the King would give that information to Maddie in the Garden of the Old Kings.

The King didn’t ask why he would meet with Maddie instead of Buck, though perhaps the answer was obvious enough. The King knew of Buck’s travels across the Empire. He had ordered his men to patrol certain areas on that basis alone. He had also fed Buck information about faraway tips that the guild might be interested in. The King was smart, observant man.

“If you’re wondering about your ward, you are welcomed to visit him” said the King to Buck, after Maddie had finished explaining everything she could. “He is resting in your old quarters. I believe he was tired out in the garden. It’s been a beautiful morning, so the kids have been outside since practically sun up. Athena is trying to enjoy as much of this weather as she can before she leaves for her visit back home.”

Buck glanced at Maddie. He would like to go check on Christopher. Eddie had asked him to do so, but there was also an itch beneath Buck’s skin to know for himself. He didn’t mean to dump Christopher off on the King and that be that.

“There are some matters I would like to speak with Maddie about,” added the King. “It should only take a few moments.”

Still, Buck hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave Maddie alone with the King. They got along better than the King and Buck did anyway. It was that he didn’t want to abandon Maddie here in the palace. They had come in together.

“Go, I’ll be fine,” said Maddie. “I’ll catch up with Father.”

So, Buck nodded. He left them to their devices, heading for the western exit of the Garden Cabinet. The guards who stood duty there closed the door behind him. The Royal Apartments were not far away from the Garden Cabinet, being on the same side of the Palace. Buck walked a practiced route down long corridors and up stones sets of stairs until he finally made it to doors leading into the Royal Apartments. The guards there opened the door for him immediately.

He stepped inside. He noted, again, how differently the Royal Solar was than it had been with the First Queen had decorated it, but the darker woods no longer bothered him. The New Queen had distinguished tastes, something Buck could finally allow himself to admit. One of these days, he was going to have to face the New Queen and offer her his sincere apologies for everything.

The Royal bedchambers were beyond a grand door that led northward out of the Royal Solar. It opened up into another long chamber. To the west were the King and Queen’s wing. To the east were the quarters that traditionally belonged to the heirs. The New Queen’s children, however, had taken up residence in the north wing, which was typically reserved for special guests of the royal family like the in-laws of the King or the siblings of the throne. Buck hadn’t asked the King why this was so the last time he had been here, and he wondered equally as much now.

The east wing had changed little since Buck could remember it. It was a long corridor with rooms on both sides and, at the end, was a large stained-glass window Buck had broken once playing a game with Maddie when they were kids visiting here for the first time. The window had been repaired since then, but Buck could still remember the bone-chilling terrified twist in his chest when he had heard the glass shatter. He had been certain the King would send him back to that gods-forsaken tundra. The King hadn’t. He had only cordoned off the area while the repairs were done.

Buck’s old quarters was off to the left, straight across the hall from Maddie’s. The bedchamber was like all royal ones: large and ornate, with a large fireplace and a four-poster bed stuffed with the softest feathers in all of the Empire. On one side of the chamber was a large wardrobe, on the other was a seating area composed of matching sofas. The draperies were done up in the same royal purple color as the rest of the palace.

Here, Christopher was staying, and it looked exactly like it did when Buck called it home.

Christopher was laying on one of the sofas when Buck knocked then entered the room. It was the one with the best view of the window that looked out across the Great Sea. He looked as worn out as the King had promised he would. Buck knew from experience the sofa was an excellent place for a good nap, but Christopher had not yet drifted off.

“Buck!” he cried, upon spotting him.

He sat up clumsily and reached for his crutches. Buck reached the sofa before he had time to get them, so Christopher threw his hands around Buck in a big hug instead. Buck hugged him tightly back then, when Christopher had let go of him enough, sat down next to him.

“I knew you would come,” said Christopher.

Buck smiled down at him. Christopher was leaning against him, trusting him, and Buck then understood with stark clarity why Eddie had refused to come. Buck wasn’t sure how he himself was going to be able to leave Christopher again.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing good here.”

“Your dad takes good care of me,” said Christopher. “He read me the stories of the gods last night like he used to do with you.”

Buck smiled. That sounded like the King.

“Yeah? And you like it here?”

Christopher nodded.

“The Queen let me help her with her roses this morning down in the garden. I liked that.”

Buck swallowed against the lump in the back of his throat. It hurt thinking about the New Queen watching over Christopher, letting him help with the garden like all royal children did, when it wasn’t the First Queen instead. Buck missed his mother. That was an old pain. That was the pain that had driven a stake in the already-fragile relationship with his father that he had only recently decided to let go of.

But more than that, Buck knew the First Queen would have loved Christopher. She would have taken one look at his smile and his ever-optimistic outlook and would have fallen head-over-heels in love with him like Buck himself did. But she wasn’t here. She would never meet Christopher.

“She loves you a lot,” said Christopher, knocking Buck out of his thoughts.

“Who does?” asked Buck.

He felt like he had missed something, like maybe an entire conversation, in the time he had been stuck in his thoughts. Christopher smiled up at him. It struck Buck then, again, how much Christopher favored his father. He wondered what features he had taken from his mother. He bet Shannon had been a looker.

He felt a spark of sympathy and anger light in his chest. Christopher was growing up without his mother, and Buck wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. The fact that it was Eddie’s kid—the very one that Buck himself had fallen in love with since the moment he knew he existed—made it all that much worse. He bit back a curse at the gods. _Xyzaruna_ was supposed to be the goddess of death, yet she had allowed her own heir to grow up without a mother.

“The Queen,” said Christopher. “She loves you so much.”

Buck offered Christopher a smile, but guilt rushed up his throat like vomit.

“I doubt it,” he said, quietly. Honestly. “I was pretty mean to the Queen the last time I spoke to her.”

But Christopher just shook his head.

“She does. You’ll see. What she tells you, it’s the truth.”

Buck bit his bottom lip but said nothing else. He hadn’t meant to be so candid with Christopher in the first place. Buck’s feelings—his regrets—weren’t for children. They were for Buck and Buck alone to drown in.

“Well, you know, your dad loves you. He sent me to check on you, because he couldn’t come to the palace himself.”

“I know. He thinks the King would kick him out, but he wouldn’t. The King is too nice.”

“It sounds like you fit in just well here,” said Buck, patting Christopher shoulder.

He wished this moment would never end. Everything was right in Buck’s life. Eddie was safe with Hen. Maddie was back in his life, freed from the demons of her past that Buck hadn’t known about. Buck had learned how to talk to the King without yelling at him. And here Christopher was safe and loved in the palace.

There was a tickle in the back of his mind that this lull wasn’t going to last. It couldn’t. The Undergrounders were still out there, thirsty for Eddie’s blood, and Doug was still a very real threat once he finally figured out to where Maddie had run. And one day, however soon or far, Buck would have to make a decision that would either make the King proud or devastate him: whether he wanted to officially reclaim his place in line for the throne or forsake it forever.

But for now, Buck had this: Christopher in his arms and everyone he loved safe and sound within the Station.

It wasn’t until Buck and Maddie were safely back in Chim’s house that Buck breathed easily again. The palace and all of its expectations of him had always made him uncomfortable, long before his relationship with the King had hit the rocks. He hadn’t seen the King after he had gone to visit Christopher. Maddie had met him outside of the Royal Solar for them to leave the palace together. They had done what they had come for.

Chim, Hen, and Eddie had already beat them back to the house. There was a full dinner laid out on the table, a spread of honey-sweetened fresh-caught fish and buttered potatoes and salt-grilled okra. It was served with honey mead and Karen's famous wheat bread. Buck’s mouth watered at the sight.

“Tell me you all bring good news,” said Chim, as they sat around his table to dine.

It was a round, wooden table similar to those in the tavern over in the River District, and in the middle of it was a single, white candle with a tall-burning flame. It was big enough to fit Chim, Hen, and Buck easily, which was usually all that was seated there. The thieves were a tight-knit group in general, but the three of them had become family. Now, with the addition of Maddie and Eddie, they had to sit closer together, their elbows almost knocking together. Nobody seemed to mind. Buck certainly didn’t. This was the type of family he had longed for as a starving child on that gods-forsaken tundra, and this was the type of family he had missed so dearly when the First Queen had died.

“I think I’ve brewed up a good concoction for both Eddie and Maddie,” said Hen. “Tried it out on Eddie, and he managed to rob the entire market blind without anyone seeing a thing.”

“Hence the fresh fish?” asked Buck, as he helped himself to a generous helping of it.

He had no qualms about eating stolen food, especially not from the market where one merchant was like the other and none were any more upstanding citizens than the thieves who thrived in the Underbelly. The food on the table looked delicious and smelled just as good. He wasn’t a native of the River District, but he had acquired a love for their fish like those who lived their entire lives on the bank of the Great River had. No one did fish quite like the Stationers.

Hen inclined her head in agreement, grinning at him. She was as much of a thief as he was, and even Eddie looked a little proud of himself. Buck wondered what Eddie was like in his glory years of thieving, back when he officially ran with the guild.

“We’ll need to do a test run on Maddie this evening and see if Eddie can trace her,” added Hen. “If he can’t, we’re golden. If he can... well, I’ve got a few ideas for a work around.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” asked Buck.

“Nope,” said Hen, “and you’d better remember it, Buckaroo.”

Buck laughed, as did the rest around the table, but the truth was that Buck was envious of Hen’s ability to look at a problem and immediately devise a potion or elixir to solve it. He wasn’t sure he was good enough like that at anything—except maybe disappointing the King and the First Queen.

“Everything is set at the palace,” added Maddie.

She was taking to everything like a fish to water, like she had said Buck did to the royal duties. Here she was seated amongst thieves and an assassin, and she looked more comfortable with herself than she had in all of Buck’s memory. Neither she nor Buck were born of royalty, but, for reasons beyond Buck’s understanding, she had always seemed to be seeking a way out.

Originally, that way out had been Doug, but now it seemed to be the thieves’ guild. She had made it clear to Buck that she had no interest in reclaiming her title as heir to the throne. That, she had relinquished entirely. But whatever demons had chased her away from Doug seemed to have had stayed there with him, and she might as well have been an entirely different person than she was only last night when she had sought Buck out in the Sewers.

It was strange, Maddie’s ability to bounce back from things. Buck couldn’t do that. He dwelled on pain until it ate him up and spit him out and all that was left of him was the crippling pain. Maddie was resilient. She hadn’t held the death of the First Queen against the King, and she hadn’t held the New Queen against him either, not like Buck had.

“That just leaves supplies,” said Chim. “I managed to get carriages north and west but not much else today.”

He looked tired, haggard, and Buck wasn’t surprised. The trip up to and back from Diaz Mountains had been rough, and Chim had managed the worst part of it by himself. That alone would be enough to exhaust any man. With the added pressure of resuming his guildmaster duties, Buck was surprised Chim had managed to stay awake for so long instead of giving into pure exhaustion. 

“We’ll take care of those like usual,” said Buck.

He had prepared for dozens of long trips, and so had Hen. Chim had already taken care of the hard part, which was securing transport. The Underbelly had all of the supplies they could possibly need for any sort of trip.

“Right, but what I’m more concerned about is one of you actually engaging the Undergrounders without backup,” said Chim, and he looked directly at Buck and Eddie.

Buck leaned over to Eddie, keeping his eyes on Chim the whole time.

“He’s talking about us,” he whispered, loudly.

Eddie snorted. Chim rolled his eyes, but he did not deny that he had, in fact, been speaking only to the pair of them. Hen wasn’t stupid or reckless enough to invite death like they were.

“Which brings me to this: none of you are to engage with the Undergrounders. I don’t care what the circumstances are. Is that clear?”

Chim was still looking straight at Buck and Eddie, and he stared at them until they agreed. The seconds ticked by.

“I hear ya,” said Buck.

“Yeah, me, too,” echoed Eddie.

Chim sighed. He glanced over at Hen.

“There’s no way this can end good, right? Or is that just me?”

Hen shook her head.

“Buck, the worst listener ever? And Eddie, the king of running off to save the world all by himself? Not a chance.”

“Hey!” said Eddie, indignantly. “I seem to recall you running off to the war to get yourself killed. You can’t say I’m the only one who does that.”

“I can’t say that Buck is the only one doesn’t listen, either, but here we are,” said Hen, grinning. “And, if you recall, you ran off to that war, too.”

Eddie froze. The air grew thick around them. The grin fell off Hen’s face. Sobering silence fell around them all, engulfing them. Buck didn’t know what exactly it was that Hen and Eddie were fighting about, but the tension between them was unmistakably ripe. It filled every crack and crevice of the room, cozying up against everyone’s skin until the air grew thick and almost suffocating.

“Yeah,” he said, softly. The break of his voice echoed in the room around them. His eyes took on a far-away glint, like he was a thousand leagues away from this moment in time here in Chim’s house. He drew in a ragged, labored breath then let it out ever-so-slowly like every ounce of it hurt to let go. “I guess I did.”


	18. Chapter 18

Early the next morning, just as the beginning hints of daylight peaked through the inky horizon, Buck and Eddie bade their goodbyes to the others. Hen wasn’t due to leave until shortly after daybreak, so she remained back in the dimly lit kitchen of Chim’s house, nursing a steaming cup of honey tea. Chim and Maddie were bleary eyed and still half-asleep as they gave their goodbyes. Neither had any traveling to do and would have probably preferred to have stayed longer in bed before their days started. Yet, Chim clapped both Eddie and Buck on the back, and Maddie kissed Buck on the cheek before they were sent on their own way.

Like the carriage to Angelsbury, this one was wooden and rickety and lacked the comfortable padded seats the carriage to the Backlands had offered. It only reiterated Buck’s belief that there were certain perks of being the guildmaster. Still, Buck did not complain as he climbed up inside and sat in the back with the supplies. There was just enough room back here for two people, so Eddie climbed in after him and sat next to him, their shoulders touching.

The carriage was primarily meant to be a supply wagon and was designed as such, but the drivers often offered passage to anyone traveling along the same route for extra coin, so it had been modified to resemble the passenger carriages that commonly traveled the Empire. It was sparsely occupied, and the handful of other passengers aboard all sat up front.

Buck appreciated the privacy the back offered. Here, he felt comfortable enough to refrain from glancing over his shoulder the whole ride. They were due for a long one. This carriage would take them west to the edge of Kingsmarsh in the Milderry Foothills and then north to Mniagate. It was the same route Buck and Hen had taken when they had gone to the Pass.

Eddie smelled vaguely of the black-blue berries that grew along the riverbank. He had started his regiment of Hen’s potions before they had left Chim’s place in order to make sure he was cloaked from the moment he left the River District.

Buck was sure he himself smelled little differently. He, too, was forced to rely on the potions, something he had never had to do on his trips before—but he had never been so hunted before, either. Traveling with Eddie, with a man who had a sizeable bounty upon his head, was more dangerous than traveling alone as a prince hiding in the shadows of a thieves guild hood. Yet, Buck refused to complain. If this was the price he had to pay to save Eddie’s life, he would pay it time and time again.

Eddie was a steady presence at Buck’s side as the carriage wheels click-clacked over the dirt road that was twisting ever so slowly northward. Buck could walk this route blindfolded and not make a single wrong step, he had traveled it so much. He wondered how many more years he had in him to travel across the Empire in the name of the guild. Most thieves his age were settling down into families here or there.

Hen was the first of such a thief to cross his mind. A few years his senior, Hen had traveled the Empire hundreds of times over in the years following the war until she had met Karen and fell in love with her and began building a life together. Now, she stuck to mainly jobs around the River Province. She was hoping to set up an alchemy shop there, too, with the gold she earned through the guild. For all that Buck hated to admit it, Hen’s life was moving beyond the guild.

Hen’s path was inevitable. There was one truth that slithered through the Sewers like a big, ghostly snake: the thieves who didn’t settle down also didn’t linger too long, either with the guild or in life. Thieves weren’t meant to grow old.

So, Buck was happy for her. He was happy for all of his friends who found their soulmates and got an opportunity to build a future with them. He was envious of them, even. They had it all figured out, while he was flailing through life, not sure what he wanted to keep or give up. All he had was this guild and a half-promise to take his place in line for the throne. 

Buck wasn’t sure what he was meant to do, and he pondered as they traveled, desperate for some sort of guidance. None of the alluvial plains bracketing the Great River gave him any insight. They were beautiful, and they were part of the Empire that he might one day rule, but Buck felt lost like the sediment in the Great River, slowly being ripped away from everything and depositing into the vast nothingness of the Great Sea.

Buck wasn’t a thief, and he wasn’t a prince, because he couldn’t be both at once, but, somehow, he had been allowed to, and he knew deep down in his heart that the times were changing. The guild was growing. The King was aging. One day, probably sooner rather later now, Buck would have to choose his path and forever forsake the other.

“You’re thinking too loud,” said Eddie, quietly, next to him.

His breath smelled like those black-blue berries, and Buck wanted to draw Eddie in for a kiss if only so that he could taste them on his tongue again. Buck swallowed. Eddie was steady, calming next to him.

“Does that, uh, make it hard for you to not read me, as you say you don’t?”

Eddie smiled at Buck. It was glorious in the sunlight and stole the breath from Buck’s lung, like a thief in the night. Buck wondered if this was how Shannon had felt once-upon-a-time before she had given Eddie Christopher and lost her life. Buck felt a pain of sadness intermixed with guilt. Shannon had had such short time with Eddie and none with Christopher, but Buck had it all. He hoped she would forgive him for taking everything that was hers.

“This,” said Eddie, laying his hand on Buck’s shoulder just to thumb at the cord of Buck’s pendant, “makes it hard for me to read you. But I know you. Whatever it is on your mind, you’re letting it fester there, and that ain’t good for you.”

Buck reached for the pendant through his shirt and held it in the fabric between his fingers. It was grounding. It had become a part of him since he had first put it on weeks ago. It was a part of Eddie always with him, even when Eddie wasn’t a steady presence at his side like now.

They were dressed in regular street clothes, like those travelers might wear from the River Province. Stowed away in their pack, which Eddie had insisted on carrying, was Buck’s guild-issue armor and Eddie’s, as well. Once they got closer to the King’s Palace, they would change. For now, they blended in with the others on the carriage. Nobody looked at them twice.

“I just keep thinking about after,” said Buck.

The smile faded from Eddie’s lips, and with it, anxiety crept across Buck’s heart. There was no mistaking the troubled expression on Eddie’s face. It was a complete one-eighty. From someone who knew more than anyone possibly could, something was wrong.

“What?” asked Buck.

Eddie rolled his lips between his teeth.

“What d’you think we’re going to find there?”

_There _meant the King’s Palace, but they were no longer guaranteed the safety of the royal wards in the Station, so they had to be extra careful with what they said. Even with Hen’s potions, they weren’t untraceable. The potions could prematurely lapse, or the Undergrounders could find them anyway, or a dozen other things could go wrong. They shouldn’t tempt fate.

“I don’t know,” admitted Buck. He looked away, across the river plains and, beyond it, at the sparkling blue waters of the Great River itself. “Father said there’s been activity there recently, but it doesn’t make sense. The court hasn’t been held there for over two years now, not since Mother died. They have no reason to be there.”

“They’re all over the Empire.”

“Sure, but not that close to a residence, you know? I mean, it’s still heavily guarded. Why gamble with anonymity when you don’t have to?”

Eddie laughed. It wasn’t humorous.

“Now, you’re thinking like ‘em.”

“I just can’t figure it out. Something isn’t adding up, and I need to check it out.”

“And the fact that Chim could have sent any other thief?”

Buck shrugged. He looked back at Eddie. The entire world was in his eyes, but he was looking only at Buck.

“Nobody else can get past the defenses like me.”

Eddie nodded.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“You think it’s a set up? A red herring?”

Eddie sighed He looked away from Buck, out across the road in front of them. In the far distance, barely a mirage on the horizon were the beginnings of the peaks of the Milderry Foothills. It would take them most of the day to get that far. The only thing in a hurry around these parts was the rushing river.

“I think if I had any reason to want to draw you out, I’d play on your sympathies.”

Buck chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, contemplating. He watched Eddie carefully.

“Like you did the first time we met?”

Eddie’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t deny it.

“You intrigue me, Buck, like no other has before,” he said, and that was that.

The carriage pushed north, and every league they covered, Buck and Eddie grew steadily quieter. Buck was mulling over Eddie’s fears. He wondered how much stemmed from Eddie’s paranoia from running from the Undergrounders for the last few months and how much stemmed from the Black Heart in him. He had once told Buck that there were places he couldn’t follow him, and he had begged Buck not to go, but he hadn’t said a word about what he expected to find in Mniagate or why he had supported Buck against Chim even though he had reservations of his own.

Eddie was a puzzle that Buck couldn’t figure out. He was blindingly and heart-wrenchingly attractive. He stole the breath from Buck’s lungs, and he made Buck’s heart skip a beat, and he conjured up an entire army of butterflies in Buck’s belly. And Buck thought he was learning more and more about Eddie, piece by piece. Eddie had a son, and he had run off to fight in a war that wasn’t his, for a King he had never met, and he had a bounty on his head that forced him to run away from everyone he had ever loved.

Yet here he was with Buck, choking on Hen’s regiment of potions, just to back him up. He had trusted Buck with Christopher. He had trusted Buck to follow him back to the River District. Now, he was following Buck to Mniagate, to a potential hot-area of Undergrounders who would more sooner see him dead than alive.

Buck couldn’t shake the feeling he was hand-delivering Eddie to his death.

They stayed overnight in an inn at the foothills of the Milderry Mountains. The last time Buck had gone through here, he and Hen had slept the night beneath the stars. But this time, he had to be more careful. An inn gave them a nice bed to sleep in but also a room that Eddie could ward.

“Are you sure it won’t tire you out?”

Eddie waved off Buck’s concerns. To his credit, he didn’t look any more tired than he had when they had climbed off the carriage with their pack. Maybe Hen’s potions were working after all.

“I can think of better ways to tire me out,” said Eddie, instead.

It was the worst pick-up line Buck had ever heard, but Buck crashed into him anyway with his lips pressed against Eddie’s like they were meant to be there. They danced from the door to the bed, and Eddie fell back upon it.

He stared up at Buck for a split second, smiling hungrily at him. Buck had lost his shirt, and Eddie had, too, but they were still too overdressed. Eddie grabbed Buck by the hand and dragged him down, and their lips crashed together again, like the ocean waves against the rocky coast, and, messily, they rid each other of their clothes until they were naked as the days they were born.

Eddie’s cock was already hard. Buck shuddered when his own brushed it, and he dove eagerly into Eddie’s mouth, tasting him against his tongue.

“Tell me you packed the oil,” said Buck, harsh against Eddie’s lips, because he didn’t dare withdraw any farther than a single breath.

If he couldn’t have Eddie like he wanted him right here and right now, he might die. Eddie was sinfully warm beneath his fingertips. His cock was hard against Buck’s, and Buck wanted to cry the intensity of it. He wondered vaguely in the back of his mind that wasn’t consumed by _Eddie_ if he had ever felt so much at once.

Eddie shoved a warmed vial of clear oil into Buck's trembling hand. It must have been in Eddie’s pocket all day. Buck jerked at the thought, nearly losing himself. Eddie was as gone as he was.

“Thought we might try things a little different tonight,” said Eddie, a breath against Buck’s lips. His eyes were open and so, so wide and staring into Buck’s like there was nowhere else in the entire world to look. “Give me everything.”

The reverence in Eddie’s voice shook Buck to the core, and he shuddered, trembled atop Eddie. In all of his fantasies—in every moment that had passed since that fateful trip to Angelsbury—Buck had never let himself run free with such an idea. Here Eddie was, urging Buck to open the vial and pour oil onto his fingers and guiding Buck’s hand lower, lower, _lower_ until Buck’s fingers were pressing into Eddie.

The world stopped turning. Eddie gasped, startled, but he grabbed Buck by the back of his head and dragged him in for another kiss that was more teeth and tongue than anything. Buck steadily worked Eddie open, his fingers trembling and slick with oil. He crooked them up when he finally broke from Eddie’s kiss, and he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, so he collapsed his face into Eddie’s throat, feeling Eddie’s rapid pulse against his temple, as Eddie writhed beneath him.

Buck’s name was a curse upon Eddie’s lips, cascading from his tongue like the world’s most forbidden waterfall. When Eddie had had enough, he grabbed Buck’s wrist and pulled Buck’s fingers out. He urged Buck to look at him, and it took an exourbent amount of effort to pull himself out of the warmth of Eddie’s neck.

“I want to remember this,” Eddie said, and he was looking at Buck like he was in the presence of the gods. “I have wanted you long enough, and I will long for you even more.”

He helped Buck slick up his cock, and when it proved that Buck had lost all sense of himself in the depths of Eddie’s eyes, he helped Buck line up and press slowly, slowly, _slowly_ into Eddie until they were one, indivisible, two souls in one space.

Buck cried out at the warmth. Eddie grinned up at him, the devilish man he was, and urged Buck to _move_, and Buck _did_.

It was the rise and fall of the waves. It was the push and pull of the moon. It was everything and nothing at once, and Buck knew nothing beyond the feel of Eddie around him, beneath him, against him. Eddie’s name became a mantra, the only word Buck knew, and Eddie reached for him again, for the hand slicked with oil, and guided Buck to Eddie’s cock, and Buck felt like he was experiencing too much, like he couldn’t move beyond _Eddie _around him.

Buck tightened his grip around Eddie’s cock, and Eddie moaned his name against Buck’s lips then drew Buck in for another kiss. Buck’s instincts kicked in then, _finally_, and he flicked his wrist, his hand dragging along Eddie’s cock, and Eddie trembled beneath him, tightened around him.

So Buck did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until—

Eddie cried out Buck’s name, a curse upon his lips like it was the most sacred word in the entire language, and he spilled between them, and he tightened against Buck, and Buck drew back only to push in and lose himself in Eddie. In Oblivion. He fell face-first into Eddie’s neck, breathed him in, and that was all it took to push him over the edge, too, and Buck’s vision went white.

Buck cleaned them up with the rag and wash-pan that had been provided with the room. Eddie’s skin was sticky, and he spilled onto the sheets beneath him when Buck had pulled out. The sight of it had almost made Buck want to draw Eddie back in for a second round, but Eddie looked like the human embodiment of bliss, and Buck himself was still trembling. It had been too much, and maybe, just maybe, not enough.

He wiped the cool rag over Eddie’s heated skin first and took extra care with the redness Buck himself had caused. Goosebumps spread out across Eddie’s skin, chasing the rag as it went, until Eddie was clean. Then he used the same rag on himself and dropped it into the wash bin.

He drew on what was left of his strength to fall into bed with Eddie. He crawled over until he could lay next to Eddie, pressed together, Buck’s head against Eddie’s chest. This was where Buck belonged: in Eddie’s arms, pressed up against his heart.

“D’you ever think about the future?” asked Buck.

It was hardly a whisper. He still felt raw and vulnerable, like he had lost a part of himself to Eddie that he would never get again. He was at peace with that. Truthfully, he had never been more at peace with anything.

“The future ain’t guaranteed to any of us,” said Eddie, equally as quiet. His chest rumbled as he spoke. “But, I s’pose I've been thinking about it more in the past few weeks.”

“I used to have it all planned out—or, rather, it used to be all planned for me, but, now, I dunno.”

Buck fell silent. Eddie joined him in it. He ran his hand up and down Buck’s back, tickling across his skin. The moment was perfect, thick around them, and Buck wished it would never end. In here, in this room, he felt indestructible, unfindable.

“I’m not sure I want to be king,” he said, softly, and he knew with stark clarity that this was the first time he had admitted it out loud to someone other than Maddie or himself. He usually didn’t acknowledge his inheritance so obtusely, but there was something about Eddie that made him want to spill every secret he had ever held.

Eddie tensed beneath him.

“It won’t be without its sacrifices,” said Eddie.

He sounded sympathetic, but Buck shrugged him off.

“I’ve known I’ll have to give myself over to the state all along, but, I mean, that’s not really—I always thought I’d have more time.”

“Your father isn’t dead.”

“No, but my mother is. Everyone I love, they all leave me. My birth parents, my mother, Maddie, even. It’s like I’m not enough of a person for them to stick around for. How can I be enough of a king for anyone to?”

Eddie sat up, gently jostling Buck off his chest so that he could stare down at him. Buck could do nothing but look up at him.

“Hey, none of that. You think your birth parents wanted to leave you? That your mother did? _Xyzaruna_, I don’t even think Maddie did. You’re enough for anyone to stick around for.”

Buck sighed.

“And if you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it,” said Eddie. “Look, I can’t tell you that you should go back to your father and take your place in line for the throne, because some sacrifices might be too much, but I can tell you that whatever decision you make, I’ll be right there with you, supporting you in any way I can.”

Eddie paused. His eyes were so, so wide, and Buck swore he could see magic dance in them, though that was impossible.

“I think you should talk to your father about this, really talk and let him tell you the real cost of being king, and then I think you should decide.”

Something tickled at the back of Buck’s mind. It settled like sandstone there, rough and noticeable.

“What aren’t you telling me, Eddie?”

But Eddie just shook his head. He laid back down, his face troubled. He pulled Buck to him, and they resumed their earlier positions. Buck’s ear was pressed just above Eddie’s heart, and it pounded a staccato beat.

“The secrets, Buck, they’re royal,” he said, finally, and spoke not a word for the rest of the night, like those secrets were right there just out of his reach and it was taking everything he could to gleam even that.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think? :)


End file.
